


Rebel

by MechBull



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 00:17:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 47,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3360719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechBull/pseuds/MechBull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>typhanni/notapepper asked for coveralls!Fitz who maybe has a grease smudge across his brow. SOMEHOW that turned into this monstrosity. Grab your pomade and poodle skirts, kids. It’s time for the 1950s greaser AU you never knew you wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notapepper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notapepper/gifts).



> Oh, so many warnings, y’all. Starting with but not limited to reminders that they’re teenagers and this is explicit. If you want to believe teenagers never have sex, don’t read this story. (I’ve tagged for underage accordingly, but whether that is legally the case would depend on the year/location this actually takes place, which is ambiguous). Also, expect typically mild but era-appropriate sexism/misogyny and occasional violence, not to mention unhealthy and risky behavior ranging from lack of protection on motorcycles to lack of protection elsewhere. Do not assume I either condemn or condone any of it. Hmm, warning also for gratuitous use and possible misuse of 1950s slang. I will try to warn for anything else as it comes up.
> 
> Perhaps the aspect of this story that’s most unrealistic involves race/ethnicity. Unfortunately, the way I wanted to use some of these characters wouldn’t have worked otherwise. Just assume that they live in an incredibly progressive town and accept my apologies for failing to do it justice. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I know nothing about cars or motorcycles, and certainly nothing about classic ones. Just go with it, OK.

“Have a good weekend, girls.”

“We will,” Jemma promised, giving her mom a tight hug. 

“And remember,” her dad said, reaching out to pull her close as well. “You’re in charge. Don’t let Skye – ”

“Be Skye?” Jemma concluded, laughing lightly.

“Hey!” Skye protested, even as she held her arms out for her own hugs. 

“There’s some money on the counter,” her dad continued. “And if you have any problems, get Aunt Peggy on the horn. We’ll be back late on Monday, so – ”

“Dad, we’ll be fine! Just have a blast.”

After a few more instructions, they left, and Skye leaned back against the closed front door with a sigh of relief. Seconds later, she grinned up at Jemma.

“They’ve finally split!” With that, she raced away from the door and up the stairs towards her bedroom.

“Ah,” Jemma called after her, immediately worried. “What are you doing?”

“Putting on some new threads!” Skye yelled back.

Jemma shook her head quickly and started climbing the stairs. “Your outfit is perfectly acceptable for doing schoolwork.”

“Ugh, Jemma,” Skye responded, stepping out of her room as she finished fastening a skirt that was a bit tighter than Jemma would have preferred. She then reached up to tie her hair back with a colorful scarf. “Don’t be such a nerd. It’s Friday night. I just got my driver’s license. Mom and Dad don’t _really_ expect us to just stay home and do mush all weekend.”

“What are you planning on doing? You don’t even have a – no.”

Skye nodded, raising her eyebrows as she smiled in what she probably thought was a charmingly persuasive manner. “Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes!” Skye snuck past her and headed down the stairs again. Jemma turned around and followed her.

“You know how much Dad loves that car. He’s named it, Skye! We’re not supposed to touch it.”

“What if there was some sort of medical emergency? What if you needed to take me to the hospital? He wouldn’t care then.”

“He might!” Jemma argued before adding, “Besides, this _isn’t_ a medical emergency!”

“It’s a _social_ emergency,” Skye countered. “It’s the first game of the season. Grant is playing quarterback tonight, and you just know all those paper shakers are going to be after him. He needs to be reminded that he’s in love with me.”

“He would need to be reminded what your name is first,” Jemma pointed out. 

“That too,” Skye acknowledged, undeterred. “Which is why we have to be there.”

Jemma sighed. “Just…I’m driving.”

“But – ”

“I’m driving.”

**

Jemma exhaled sharply, blowing a piece of hair off her sweaty forehead. She reminded herself, for at least the fifteenth time in the last fifteen minutes, that even if her accent or address didn’t reflect it, she was a proper English lady. And proper English ladies didn’t wring their sisters’ necks.

Of course, proper English ladies usually didn’t walk down the road for fifteen minutes trying to get back to the garage they passed while driving their fathers’ cars without permission. Or rather, while their sisters drove their fathers’ cars without permission, because she couldn’t even convince Skye not to do that. 

There was no sign of life in the front office of the shop, so she walked around to the back. Some music, or what her dad would probably call noise, was playing, and she could see there was someone working behind the hood of a car.

“Um, hello? Mack?” she guessed, based on the name of the garage.

“He isn’t here,” the person called out. “Can I help…” He leaned around the hood and startled a bit when he saw her. “Can I help you?”

Jemma felt a little awkward. She knew him, of course; they’d gone to school together for years. Well, technically. He was hardly ever there. 

“Hi!” she started, as brightly as she could. “Um…Leo, right?”

“Fitz,” he replied, wiping the grease off his hands with a rag that looked just as grody. “Just Fitz.”

“Oh. I’m Jemma? We’re in the same – ”

“I know who you are.”

“Oh,” she repeated. Then she took a breath before adding, “My car broke down?”

He grinned at her, and Jemma felt a little confused. “Is that a question?” he asked.

“What? No.” She lifted a hand and nervously patted it against the base of her ponytail. And then she cringed when she realized how untidy it was. Would it seem odd if she tried to fix it? “It…I don’t know what happened. It caught on fire.”

“It caught on fire?!” He seemed equally alarmed and disbelieving.

She nodded rapidly. “Smoke started coming out of it!” she explained, gesturing broadly in an attempt to demonstrate the urgency of her situation.

And then he laughed, looking away from her and focusing on the engine in front of him. “It overheated,” he explained, somewhat dismissively. “You’re probably low on coolant.”

For a moment, she was terrified he was just going to ignore her after that. But then, he started speaking again. “Mack’s out with the tow truck, but you can hang here until he gets back, if you want. There’s Coca-Cola in the office.”

“Oh, but…” Jemma began, turning slightly to look in the general direction of the car. “My sister, she’s with the car.”

He looked up again, seeming a bit worried. “Would she try to do anything with it?”

“Skye? I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Damn,” he replied. “She’ll burn herself.”

And then he started unbuttoning his coveralls. Jemma felt a little blush rising on her cheeks, and she didn’t know quite where to look as he pulled them off, revealing a white t-shirt and jeans. He walked over to a table in the corner and picked up a leather jacket. Pulling it on, he looked at her again.

“Where is it?”

Jemma pointed. “Down the road. Maybe a mile. But…I’ll go with you. Where’s your car?”

Fitz nodded at something on the other side of the garage, and Jemma turned. The hood was up and the car appeared to be missing several pieces.

“Oh,” she said, beginning to feel like it was the only word she knew. “Then how…”

“I’ll take my bike.” 

Jemma faced him again. This day kept getting worse. “And I should just wait here by…by myself?”

He looked at her again, eyes dropping down and then gliding up again. His lips twitched in another little smile. “You can hop on, if you want.”

It wasn’t much of a choice, but she didn’t want to argue it any longer, not if Skye might be doing something stupid or dangerous. And since it was Skye…

He grabbed a bottle of something from a shelf above the table, and then walked past her. She turned to follow him, watching as he put the bottle in a bag strapped near the back tire. He leaned forward then, grabbing the handlebars and straightening the bike while he shifted the kickstand. He climbed on and then looked at her.

“Are you coming?”

Jemma sighed and stepped forward. And then she stopped again, suddenly realizing how difficult this would be. “How?” she asked, gesturing towards her skirt.

Fitz shrugged, raising an eyebrow. “Some girls sit sideways. Some girls bunch it up and go astride. Probably safer.”

Jemma didn’t move.

“Are you coming or not?”

She sighed again, louder. She started walking, gathering her skirt in her hands as she got closer. She faltered a bit, lifting her foot a fraction off the ground several times.

“Don’t look,” she warned.

He deliberately faced forward. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Jemma could hear the smile in his voice, and it rather annoyed her. She hesitated for one second more before she just forced herself to do it. Lifting her leg until it cleared the bike, she shifted her weight, and then did her best to fold the skirt under and around her as she lowered onto the small passenger seat. She raised her feet, trying to find the little pegs she had seen earlier, and unintentionally grabbed Fitz’ shoulder to keep her balance. 

“Yeah, you’re going to want to hold on,” he said. 

“Hold onto what?” Jemma asked. 

He twisted then, looking over his shoulder at her with an expression that seemed vaguely inappropriate. Jemma didn’t want to try to interpret it. And then he faced forward again, stood slightly before dropping back down. The motorcycle revved to life, and he pushed off much faster than she was expecting. 

Jemma shrieked and instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist. She could feel his muscles tensing and relaxing beneath the light cotton of the t-shirt as he steered the bike around the side of the building. The tightness of her grip and slope of the seat caused her to slide forward, her legs spreading a bit wider as she pressed up against him. Jemma closed her eyes in fear and…something else, pressing her forehead against his jacket.

The leather smelled really nice.

**

Skye, thankfully, was not doing anything stupid or dangerous when they arrived back at the car. She was merely stretched out on the backseat, apparently singing softly to herself. The look on her face when she saw them pull up was a bit incredulous, and her eyebrows rose in surprise when Fitz climbed off the motorcycle, set the kickstand and then, before Jemma could stop him, grabbed her around the waist and essentially lifted her off the seat.

Jemma wobbled a bit as he set her down, trying to find her balance on solid ground again. She was feeling more than a little flustered, and so attempted to ignore Skye’s entertained gaping and the way her eyes flitted back and forth between Jemma, Fitz, and the motorcycle. 

Fitz didn’t notice, or pretended not to, as he grabbed the bottle out of the bag and walked around to the front of the car. He opened the hood and bent over the engine. Jemma watched him intently so she didn’t have to respond to Skye’s flailing. Her sister was waving her arms frantically, pointing towards the front of the car, and mouthing something, but Jemma refused – she _refused_ – to indulge Skye any more that day.

At that moment, another car pulled up alongside them. Two of Jemma’s classmates, Sally Webber and Callie Hannigan, leaned out the passenger windows. 

“Are you girls OK?” Callie asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Jemma replied quickly. 

They glanced in Fitz’ direction with slightly worried expressions. Then Sally waved Jemma forward, and she stepped closer to the car, bending down to look through the window. Sally’s boyfriend Seth was in the driver’s seat and he leaned over. 

“You want me to – ?” he started even as Sally asked, “Should we wait with you?”

“Oh!” Jemma felt oddly offended on Fitz’ behalf. He had been a little curt, maybe. Maybe he had enjoyed seeing her uncomfortable a little too much. But he had also been helpful, more so than he had needed to be, even. “We’re fine. Really.” 

Seth looked a bit skeptical, but Jemma just stepped back from the window. 

“Wait!” Skye called out. “Are you going to the game? Maybe I could – ”

 _That_ was too much. Jemma turned around, glaring at her sister. Skye faltered a bit when she saw Jemma’s expression.

“ – just stay here,” Skye concluded. 

“Are you sure?” Sally asked, the double meaning in her question clear.

Both sisters nodded, although Jemma suspected her response was more annoyed and Skye’s more wistful. Seth pulled away then, and a few moments later, Fitz leaned around the hood to look at her. His face was a bit red, and Jemma was afraid he had heard or realized the others’ concerns.

“Give it a try,” he instructed.

Jemma, still a little rattled about everything, rushed over to open the driver’s door. She sat down, leaving her legs dangling out of the car, and turned the key in the ignition. The car started, and Jemma sighed in relief when it seemed to be fine. 

Fitz slammed the hood shut and walked closer to her. He stepped around and then right up behind her legs, his upper body coming very close to hers as he rested one hand on the back of the seat and leaned down. She felt her flush deepen, and she tried not to pull away. But he just looked at her earnestly for a second and then turned his head to look at the dashboard.

He tapped his fingernail against one of the gauges. “Keep your eyeballs on this next time. If it gets too hot, pull over. _Before_ steam comes out of the car.”

“Righto,” Jemma replied, somewhat breathlessly.

His brow furrowed a bit as he continued to look at the car, focusing on a button whose function Jemma herself wasn’t sure about. She had asked her dad once, and he had just said it was a special feature of the model and to never touch it, but seeing Fitz’ confusion, she wondered – 

He looked at her again, and his eyes seemed suddenly very blue at that proximity. And then he smiled. Jemma swallowed.

“You should be fine now, but probably just go straight home.”

“Yes,” Jemma agreed, nodding rapidly. “Thank you.”

He stood up then, stepping away from the car and back towards his motorcycle.

“Oh!” Jemma exclaimed, turning slightly to reach for her purse. “What do I owe you?”

He started the motorcycle, then glanced back up at her. “Keep your bread.”

“Really?”

“No sweat.”

And then he pulled away, turning the bike in a large arc to head back towards the garage. Jemma twisted in the seat, staring after him as he got farther and farther away. It was only when Skye dropped into the passenger seat and grabbed Jemma’s arm, shaking it in excitement, that she looked away.

“That was Leo Fitz!”

“Yes,” Jemma confirmed.

“Jemma!”

“What?” Jemma asked, attempting to seem indifferent as she looked over her shoulder and then pulled back onto the road.

“You were real gone on him through _all_ of elementary school,” Skye reminded her.

“Oh, I was not.”

“Yes! You were! You thought he was the most!”

“Ancient history,” Jemma replied, her voice as stern as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a while at least, I will not be able to update this as frequently as I typically do, as I’m still actively writing it and it takes a bit more revising than present-day stories.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a bit of a shock to see Fitz sitting in his assigned seat at the back of the math classroom. He only showed up occasionally, probably to get the truant officer off his back. He was always there when they had exams, too, as if he knew intuitively the minimum amount of effort he’d need to put in if he wanted to avoid failing, but Jemma had no idea how he managed to pass the exams. Since he was still in the same section as her, she could only assume he did. 

Not that she paid that close of attention to Fitz’ school attendance or progress. She just…

She just walked past him without looking, heading towards her desk. But she couldn’t help but notice out of the corner of her eye that he had no supplies with him, not even a pencil. He just sat there, slouched and probably with the same aggressively bored expression she always saw on him in class – not, not that she…anyway.

Jemma sat down at her usual seat in the front row and organized her notebook and pencil. And then she carefully wrote the date on top of the blank page, trying to get excited for the class period. She had done all the exercises in the textbook over the summer. It was fun practice, but it was hardly challenging.

Jemma knew a little something about feeling bored in class.

But she made it through the period, and all the others that day, finding something in each class to be intrigued by and making notes of things she should research further when she could get to the library. And she certainly did not wonder why Fitz was in all three of their shared classes.

At the end of the day, she gathered her things and walked through the parking lot to where the buses idled. She was about halfway there when she happened to glance over and see him again. He was leaning against the seat of his bike, legs kicked out and crossed in front of him, a cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers. He was looking to the side and up at Barbara Morse and Lance Hunter, who were wrapped in each other’s arms as usual. He laughed about something and then looked forward again, immediately making eye contact with Jemma. 

She blushed but couldn’t look away. He lifted the cigarette and took a drag, staring back at her. Then, one corner of his mouth crooked up in a half-smile and he blew out the smoke. 

Jemma looked straight ahead and took a deep breath, reaching one hand up to play with the end of the ponytail draped over her shoulder. She started walking faster then, reaching the bus a few minutes later. She squeezed down the aisle and collapsed into the seat Skye was already waiting in. She wondered what it would be like not to have to take the bus to and from school – if she had her own car, maybe. Or, say, if she knew someone who’d be willing to give her a ride. Just hypothetically.

An engine roared right next to the window, and both Jemma and Skye looked out to see Fitz drive past on his way out of the parking lot. Skye turned back to look at Jemma meaningfully, but she didn’t say anything.

Jemma had steadfastly refused to talk about their _adventure_ that entire weekend. She wasn’t about to start now.

**

It was really the _smart_ thing to do. She might be a proper English lady, but she was also a modern woman, and modern women should be able to take care of themselves in a crisis. She’d be going to college next year, after all, and she might be able to talk her parents into getting her a car for the trips back and forth. What would she do if something happened then? And truthfully, she felt a little ashamed that she didn’t know _anything_ on the topic. She took so many after-school lessons and did so much extra reading to learn about other subjects; why not this?

So, on Tuesday after school, she told her dad that she needed to go to the library and borrowed the car. But she didn’t go to the library. 

Jemma could feel her pulse pounding as she walked around back to the garage. She swallowed a couple times and wiped her hands down her skirt. 

“Hello there, can I help you?”

She jumped and then looked up at the largest man she’d ever seen. “I’m…I’m looking for Fitz,” she managed to say. “Is he here?”

“Sure thing. In the back.”

“Thank you.” Jemma ducked her head, walking as quickly as she could to the back. But she couldn’t see him anywhere. She half-turned, looking around. “Fitz?”

Below her, there was a sound of surprise, a clank, and then muffled cursing. She looked down and saw legs sticking out from under the car she stood next to. Moments later, he used his feet to roll the…cart thing out. He held one hand to his forehead just above his eye and had a rather pained expression on his face as he looked up at her.

“Yeah?”

Jemma unconsciously crouched, reaching out towards him. “Are you – ?” she began, resting one hand on his side and lifting the other towards his face. 

The muscle beneath her hand twitched a bit, as he looked down at where she touched him. It was then she realized what exactly she was doing. She pulled her hands away quickly, feeling the flush burn up her neck.

**

“What – ” Fitz cleared his throat and tried desperately not to look at the skin of her knees just inches in front of him, or worse, check to see exactly how high he could see up her skirt if he tilted his head just so. “What are you doing here?”

He pulled himself up then, standing somewhat awkwardly, and she rose too, looking about as rattled as he felt. Jemma Coulson! In the garage, standing in front of him for the second time that week! He took a breath, and then blinked, before forcing the nervousness away and trying to seem cool. He reminded himself that he’d been able to treat her like any other chick before, so there’s no reason he can’t do so again.

“Your car on fire again?” he continued, smirking a bit.

“No,” she replied, her face reddening even deeper. It made her look really – “No, but that’s why I’m here. I was wondering…that is, would you be willing to…teach me about cars?”

Fitz blinked. “Huh?”

“Well,” she said, wringing her hands together nervously. “Just basic stuff, like…um, oil and – and flat tires? I thought, if something like that happened again, I’d want to be more prepared. Everyone should know practical skills, don’t you think?”

Fitz was pretty sure his mouth was gaping open. 

“I could pay you,” she offered.

He snapped his mouth shut and looked down, pressing the wrench in one hand against the palm of the other. “I don’t need your money,” he said, a bit angrier than he intended to.

“Oh,” she nearly whispered. “I just meant for your time.”

Fitz swallowed, unable to look up and meet her eyes again. 

“Forget it,” she said, a bit louder, and he could see her shake her head out of the corner of his eye. “I shouldn’t have – sorry.”

And then she turned around and started walking away. Fitz looked up in alarm. He didn’t mean for her to – 

“How about Thursdays?”

She turned then, reaching out for the car next to her as she stumbled. “Thursdays? After school?”

He fought a grin. “Whenever works for you. My schedule’s wide open.”

She rolled her eyes, apparently unconsciously. “Well, _I_ have school, so…4 o’clock?”

Fitz nodded in agreement, and she smiled brilliantly. He took a deep breath. “You, ah, might want to wear something besides...” he pointed somewhat awkwardly at her skirt and sweater. “It can get kind of messy.”

She looked down at herself, lifting a hand to smooth the fabric. “Oh, right,” she said hesitantly. Then she brightened again. “Well, I’m sure I can find something.”

They stared at each other for a while. Finally, she shook her head and gave a little wave. “Thanks, Fitz! Later!”

She practically ran out of the garage then, and Fitz just continued to look after her, even long after she disappeared from sight.

“What a Dolly,” Mack observed.

Fitz jumped, wondering when exactly Mack had snuck up on him. 

“Get bent,” he replied half-heartedly, before reaching into his pocket for his due backs. He tapped one out, stuck it in his mouth and tilted his head forward to light it. His hand absolutely was not shaking.

“Not in here, Fitz,” Mack reminded him. “How many times?”

He took his thumb off the lighter and stomped out of the garage.

**

“I really appreciate this, Aunt Peggy,” Jemma said, leaning over to place the shopping bags into the backseat of the car.

“Of course, Jemma,” Peggy glanced at her with a smile, before closing the door and walking to the driver’s side door. “But I’m a little surprised. This isn’t your usual style. Not very ‘proper English lady,’ is it?”

“Oh, I – I know. I just thought I’d change my look a bit. It is senior year, after all.”

Peggy looked at her over the car, pulled open the door, and then sat down. Jemma immediately felt guilty. She opened her own door and climbed in.

“That’s close,” she confessed. Peggy made a noise expressing her complete lack of surprise. “I’m…well, I’m taking some lessons is all.”

“That you need trousers for?”

“Basic car maintenance lessons.”

Peggy started the car and reversed out of the parking spot. Jemma waited nervously. Finally, Peggy looked at her.

“That’s a good idea.”

Jemma’s shoulders slumped in relief. “You think so?”

“I certainly do,” Peggy replied, focusing on the road in front of her again. “But so would your parents, so why didn’t you have them take you shopping? And is Skye enrolled in these lessons too? Is the school sponsoring them? I’m still just _so confused_.”

The way she said it made Jemma suspect she was not confused at all. She had never been able to keep secrets from her.

“They’re not…formal lessons,” Jemma explained. “I’ve just asked a classmate for some help.”

“Oh. What’s his name?”

“Fitz,” Jemma replied, trying to sound casual.

“Is he cute?”

“Peggy!” She lifted a hand to cover the side of her face and fought an embarrassed smile. “It’s not like that.”

Peggy looked over at her, a rather skeptical expression on her face, and then continued to drive. 

“It’s not,” Jemma mumbled, looking at her hands clasped in her lap.

**

“Hello?”

Fitz straightened abruptly, smacking the back of his head on the hood of the car. She was going to give him a concussion.

Among other things, he realized, as he looked around the car and saw her enter the garage. She had on tight, short pants – pedal pushers, Bobbi called them – and a simple buttoned shirt with the tails tied together. Her hair was pulled back in her usual ponytail and she – Fitz blinked.

“Hi.”

He couldn’t do much besides stare at her for a while, and she fidgeted when he didn’t say anything else. She shifted her weight, crossing her legs at the ankle, and lifted one hand to her hair while the other arm wrapped around her waist. It was then that Fitz noticed he could see a little strip of skin in between her shirt and pants. He exhaled sharply.

Mack walked past him then, pushing him hard on the shoulder. Fitz stumbled, then shook his head to clear it.

“I’ll be in the office if you need me,” Mack said.

“OK.” He turned his head to watch him until he left. Then he faced Jemma again. He needed to be cool already.

“Come on over here.”

As soon as she stepped up next to him, he looked at the engine again. “So…this is a bent eight, a – a V8, which means that there are eight cylinders working together to drive the, uh, the crankshaft which converts motion in the engine.”

He glanced at her, and she nodded to indicate she understood. He couldn’t help but smirk a bit as he added, “Let me show you the different parts. And you should feel free to just get your hands on them.”

He waited until he saw the faint blush appear on her cheeks before he turned back to the car.

If one of them had to be nervous, well, she was a lot easier to tease. 

Made in the shade.

**

“You show up twice in as many weeks,” Bobbi observed, falling back against the locker next to Fitz’.

“Must be some kind of record,” Hunter added from Fitz’ other side.

Fitz shrugged, closed the locker and turned around, kicking one foot up behind him as he leaned back. “Had nothing better to do.”

That claim probably would’ve worked if Jemma hadn’t walked past just then. His eyes tracked her as she crossed in front of him. She glanced over, offered a small smile, and lifted her hand as if to wave. She quickly moved the hand farther up, though, using it to pat at her hair instead. She then hugged her books a little tighter to her chest and kept walking. 

Hunter scoffed in surprise. “Jemma Coulson?”

Fitz flinched, pushing off the locker and standing straight. “What? What about her?”

“You two aren’t…” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“No!” Fitz declared. He started walking towards his next classroom. “Just…she’s been around the garage a couple times. She wants to learn about cars.”

He determinedly ignored the wide-eyed looks Bobbi and Hunter gave each other. But he couldn’t ignore Hunter’s next statement.

“Yeah? You teaching her all about pistons? Lube? Internal combustion?”

Hunter’s books went flying as Fitz slammed him into the lockers. He twisted Hunter’s shirt in his fist and leaned a bit closer.

“You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’.”

Hunter held his hands up in surrender, and Fitz let him go. He kept walking.

“This is serious, then,” Bobbi said.

“It’s nothing,” Fitz argued.

“Fitz has never been serious about any chick he’s gone with,” Hunter pointed out.

“I’m not going with her,” Fitz countered, feeling like he was talking to two very dense walls.

“No,” Bobbi shook her head, gesturing behind her at the lockers. “It’s serious. What would you have done if some guy said that about me?”

Hunter shrugged. “It would have been true.”

Bobbi shoved one arm out and Hunter went flying into the lockers again. She then focused on Fitz, putting her other arm around his shoulders.

“Fitz, honey. Girls like that…” she began, sounding somewhat apologetic.

“Aren’t interested in guys like me,” Fitz concluded. “I know. It’s not like that.”

But no one seemed to believe him, least of all Fitz himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some (rather vague) references to adoption and infertility-related issues, which might be triggery.

Jemma was having some difficulty following Fitz’ explanations. Last time, she did fine, and he was really good at breaking down the subject. She felt like she was learning a lot, actually. But this time…

This time, she was lying down on a cart (“creeper,” Fitz had called it), the car’s undercarriage blocking out most of the light and the relative darkness feeling strangely intimate. Fitz was right next to her, almost touching along the whole lengths of their bodies. She could feel just a hint of pressure from his thigh as he twisted towards her. His arms were up, one elbow angling over her as he pointed out different parts of the car. And he kept looking over at her, gauging her responses. She tried to indicate she was thinking about more than just how warm his breath was on her face, or how when he got jazzed about something, he’d lift his eyebrows at her and nod just a little bit until she smiled back. 

Really, his reputation was unfair, she decided. Even if he wasn’t good at school, he still had jets. He was just smart in a different way. And as for other aspects of his reputation, well…

“Jemma?”

She tried not to wince as she met his eyes. 

“Did I lose you?”

“A little. Sorry.”

“No sweat. Should I start over, or do you want to be done for the day?”

“Oh! Oh, no. Start over! Please.”

Fitz nodded, giving her another small smile. He looked up at the car and began talking again, and Jemma took a deep breath. She forced herself to focus.

**

Jemma tiptoed down the stairs and lowered herself down to sit on the last one. Leaning against the railing, she listened to her mom drawing out the final notes of the piece she was playing. After a few moments of silence, her mom removed the bow and held it out to the side. Jemma sighed silently and then began to clap.

Her mom jumped and turned around.

“Oh, sweetheart. I didn’t realize you were there.”

Jemma smiled, pulling herself to her feet and walking closer. “You’re so good.”

Her mom waved dismissively at her and leaned over to rest the cello against its stand. Jemma sat down again, taking the spot where the cello had been and crossing her arms on her mom’s knee. She leaned over, resting her head on her arms, and soon after she felt one hand start to comb through her hair. Jemma smiled, recalling how they used to do the same thing when she was little and crying for someone she didn’t even really remember. 

“Why did you stop playing?”

“I didn’t.”

“You know what I mean. You could have been in a symphony or something.”

“Maybe. I used to dream about that. But I dreamt about your dad and you and Skye too.”

Jemma considered asking if they were quite a dream come true, if her mom wouldn’t have preferred children who came from her, who were a part of her and her dad. But she didn’t want to upset her, so she steered the conversation down a different route. Towards something she had been thinking about more and more over the last few weeks. 

“Aunt Peggy would say you could have done both.”

Her mom hummed quietly. “Aunt Peggy chose to have work and a family because it made her happiest, even when it was hard and exhausting for her. And I chose you girls because it made me happiest, even when I struggled through pain and loss. I hope you choose whatever will make you happiest, and whatever will make all the rest of life worth it.”

“How will I know? What if I choose wrong?” Jemma asked.

Her mom was silent for a long time. Finally, she said, “You’re so brave, and you’re so smart, and you’re so talented at everything you put your mind to, but most of all, you have the best heart, Jemma. Just listen to it, and I’m sure you’ll choose right.”

**

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry I’m late!” Jemma rushed into the garage, and then slowed to a stop as she realized the room was too quiet. “Fitz?”

No answer, and Jemma walked farther inside, looking around curiously. But neither Fitz nor Mack were there. She furrowed her brow, then shrugged and walked over to the small table in the corner to wait. When she sat down, she spotted a book that made her even more confused. 

“Aircraft Year Book,” she read aloud. She picked it up and began flipping through it, raising her eyebrows at the technical descriptions of different planes. 

Then Mack and Fitz entered the room, and Jemma quickly put the book down, almost accidentally knocking over the glass of water next to it. She fumbled, trying to right everything, and then turned to smile at them.

“There you are!”

Fitz was staring back at her, looking rather speechless, his mouth hanging open. Mack looked at him briefly and then stepped forward.

“Oh, good. You found that book. Fitz was worried because it’s – ”

“A customer’s,” Fitz interrupted.

“A customer’s,” Mack continued, after shooting another glance at Fitz. “Left it behind accidentally.”

“Oh! Here.” Jemma picked up the book again, and held it out for Fitz. He reached forward and practically tore it from her hands. “Sorry I’m late,” she continued. “I got volunteered for Homecoming committee.”

“Oh, is Homecoming coming up?” Mack asked, his voice strangely amused. Jemma always felt like he was having an entirely different conversation than she was. “Big bash, right?”

Jemma shrugged uncomfortably, this time being the one to dart her eyes quickly to and away from Fitz. He still looked awkward. And then none of them said anything for a long moment.

“Should we start?” Fitz finally asked.

“You bet,” Jemma replied, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.

Mack just gave them both another look, grabbed the book from Fitz, and headed towards the office. Fitz looked at her and then a moment later, his awkwardness disappeared and once again he seemed like he always did, a bit detached, a bit cool and more than a bit flirtatious. He held a hand out, and Jemma didn’t allow herself to hesitate as she took hold of it and hopped off the seat. He pulled her over to his car; after the last few weeks of repairs, it was actually starting to look like it might be drivable soon.

“Tires,” Fitz said, dropping one hand to the side of her waist and positioning her in front of him as they looked at the car. “Rotating, changing.”

Jemma nodded rapidly a few times. “Tires,” she repeated. Neither one of them moved until Fitz’ fingers twitched against her hip, and then Jemma quickly stepped forward.

After a few quick explanations, he knelt down and started cranking the jack. Jemma watched the muscles of his arms work, and missed his question at first.

“What?” she finally said, looking up.

He grinned over his shoulder at her, as if he knew why she had been distracted. “What are you doing for Homecoming anyway?”

Jemma felt her face go pale and she had trouble breathing for a second. But before she could even begin to struggle for an answer, Fitz shook his head and looked at the tire again.

“The committee, I mean. What’s the – the theme, or whatever it’s called?”

“Oh,” Jemma said, exhaling roughly. “We haven’t decided yet.”

**

Fitz had more trouble keeping cool that afternoon than he had had in a long time. Between Jemma finding the book that he had meant to return to the library - the next town’s library, obviously; he would never show his face in the one here – and then almost asking her to Homecoming – Homecoming, of all things! – it had just been a very rough day.

And he was afraid it was just going to get rougher. As he tightened the lug nuts on the last tire, he caught a glimpse of his watch. It was much later than she normally left.

“What time do you have to be home?”

Jemma looked over at him from the table, where she was sitting with a bottle of pop. “Oh,” she said, reaching up to swipe a piece of hair off her forehead. “We eat dinner at 6:30.”

Fitz looked at his watch again, which prompted Jemma to turn around and look at the clock on the wall. She jumped to her feet.

“Oh no!”

“Don’t flip,” Fitz said. “I’ll give you a ride.”

She stared at him again, mouth opening and closing and a blush rising on her cheeks. It took him a moment to figure out why, and he tried not to let it hurt too much when he did.

“I’ll drop you a block away,” he conceded as he pulled on his jacket. “Now, let’s go.”

He led her to the bike and climbed on it. She didn’t hesitate at all this time, maybe because she wasn’t wearing a skirt or maybe because she knew what to expect. She swung her leg over the seat and reached forward even as he started the motor. Her arms wrapped around him, and when he accelerated, they tightened even more. 

A few blocks down the road, she relaxed again, and her left hand splayed out. The pads of her fingers pressed harder against his stomach, and her pinky caught against the button of his jeans. Fitz swore under his breath, thankful for the roar of the engine to cover it up. He let go of the handlebar and covered her hand with his own in an attempt to stop her from letting it wander any farther. Their fingers tangled together, and Fitz didn’t let go for as long as possible. 

When he finally did, reaching up to steer the bike around a curve, Jemma’s hand stayed put. But he felt the soft curves of her body press against him and her hair tickle his neck as she turned her head to the side and rested her cheek on the back of his shoulder. 

Truthfully, it was a miracle he didn’t crash somewhere between the garage and her house. Well, the garage and one block from her house.

**

Over the next few weeks, Jemma became very busy with Homecoming preparations, but she still made sure to be at the garage every Thursday. Mack had started hanging a few minutes longer before leaving them to work, and Jemma enjoyed getting to know him. But she couldn’t help but notice that as soon as Mack politely asked how the Homecoming committee was doing, Fitz would want to start their lessons.

Rides home on the back of his motorcycle became routine. He didn’t bother offering, even, just went and started the motor while she washed her hands. He’d pull off at the side of the road about a block away from her house and turn his head towards her, his shoulders tensing as she used them to balance herself while she climbed off. And then she’d stand there talking with him, until she couldn’t stay any longer and ran home for dinner. 

Fitz was actually at school more often than not, or at least in the classes they shared, although he still looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. According to gossip, he still sluffed his other classes most days, but she tried not to think about that too much. Or about the smiles Barbara Morse gave her as they passed in the halls. Or about the way she and Fitz still pretended they barely knew each other at school, or the way he stared at her one day the entire time she was hanging Homecoming flyers in the hallways.

A week and a half before Homecoming, she finally got an invitation to the dance.

From Jasper Sitwell. 

He caught up to her in the parking lot after school, when she was halfway to the bus and sneaking glances at Fitz and his friends. Tori Hand had just walked over to join them, and Jemma was having a difficult time paying attention to Jasper as he talked. 

Fitz and Tori had gone with each other off and on through all of last year. Not that Jemma had really noticed or anything. 

She made a generally pleasant noise in response to whatever Jasper said, and watched as Tori leaned against Fitz, ran her hand through his hair and took the cigarette tucked behind his ear. He stared at her as she put it in her mouth. He didn’t smile or laugh or lean back towards her or give any of the reactions that Jemma was used to seeing from him when they talked in the garage or when he was dropping her off, but he didn’t send Tori away either. Jemma swallowed as he pulled his lighter out of his pocket and bent his head closer to Tori’s while he lit the cigarette. When he stood straight again, he happened to glance in Jemma’s direction. As soon as they made eye contact, Jemma tore her eyes away and focused on Jasper again.

“So you will?” Jasper was saying.

“Um…” Jemma hesitated. Finally, she admitted, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“You’ll – you’ll go to the Homecoming dance with me?”

Jemma tried not to sigh. Maybe he wasn’t her first choice, but she was a senior, and it was Homecoming, and she was on the planning committee, so she _had_ to be there. 

And he asked her.

“Sure, Jasper! Sounds like a blast.”

**

“You’re running out of time.”

Fitz looked up from the car in front of him. “For…what?”

“To ask her to Homecoming,” Mack replied.

Fitz scoffed at him and leaned back down.

“That poor girl’s been dropping hints left and right.”

“Yeah, I should definitely ask her,” Fitz replied, his voice hardening as he tightened the nut a bit more than he needed to. “Oh, maybe we can go to the soda shop first and share a milkshake, and I’ll give her my letter jacket, too.”

“Or,” Mack said, “you could take her to the library and show her all your favorite books on – ”

“That’s not me. That’s not my future. If she wants to be with someone who does those kinds of things, who…” Fitz shook his head angrily. “She’d be better off going with – Jasper or someone, I don’t know.”

“Who the hell is Jasper?” 

“No one. Just ice it.”

Mack didn’t. Instead, he walked closer to Fitz and inspected the work he was doing for a few moments. Then he said, “Maybe she’d be better off with this Jasper square, but she _wants_ to go with you.”

Fitz collapsed with a sigh, burying his head against his arm briefly. “Mack, just – ” he tossed the wrench onto the table next to him. “You’re the only person who doesn’t bug me. Keep this up and I’ll find somewhere else to hang.”

“You should be at school,” Mack said, an argument he hadn’t made in almost a year and which Fitz had hoped he finally had given up on. “Getting yourself an education and getting out of this town.”

Fitz shook his head. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette and walked away, bending forward to light it as he exited the garage. “You’re the only one who thinks I could,” he shouted around it, the words slightly garbled.

**

That Thursday, things were tense between him and Jemma, and they barely talked. She avoided his eyes and seemed like she was about to cry the whole time, and honestly, Fitz just really wanted to hit something. Hard.

When he did try to speak, he knew he wasn’t communicating well, and his directions would have been useless even if she had been focusing on them clearly. So, it wasn’t surprising when things went to hell.

“By the way,” she said suddenly, about 45 minutes into the lesson, “I can’t come next week. I’ll be getting ready for Homecoming.”

Fitz didn’t look up as he grunted in acknowledgment.

“Jasper Sitwell is taking me,” she added quickly, her voice somewhat breathless.

Fitz froze for a moment. He knew, of course. He had seen them talking, and it had made its way around the school, but hearing her say it… And then he started working again.

“Fitz, did you hear me?”

“Next thing is to disconnect the cable from the battery,” was his only reply.

Jemma was quiet for a second. “This one?” she finally asked, sounding angry now instead of upset.

Fitz glanced out of the corner of his eye. “Mm-hmm,” he replied distractedly, before returning to what he was doing. And then it registered. “No, the negative – !”

Fitz moved quickly, pushing her out of the way before she could do anything else. He braced himself against the front end of the car and breathed slowly in and out. Absent-mindedly, he scratched at his eyebrow, then wiped his hands off on the pants of his coveralls. 

He turned to face Jemma, and she was looking back at him with an expression of guilty alarm, and he could see the tears pooling in her eyes.

“Jemma, don’t – it’s OK.”

Before he could stop himself, he reached out and pulled her into a hug. Moments later, she relaxed with a sigh. He half-sat on the fender, his wrists crossed low near her hips, and she stepped closer, wedging between his legs, leaning against him and clinging to his shoulders. Fitz breathed heavily, his eyes drooping closed as he inhaled her scent – a strange mix of her fading perfume and the familiar smells of the garage. She tilted her head towards him, her mouth parting slightly. Her tongue darted out as she licked her lips, and Fitz could only think _pink_ and _wet_ and – 

“Hello? Anyone back here? My car’s got a flat.”

Jemma jumped away from him, straightening her clothes and patting at her ponytail and then practically running out of the garage. Fitz watched her for a moment before turning to the man who had just walked in.


	4. Chapter 4

Skye rolled around on her bed, clutching her arms to her side and letting out peals of laughter. 

“You are such a spaz, Jemma!”

“Well, I’m sorry! Learning the latest dance moves has not been my priority.”

Skye sobered almost immediately. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked at Jemma in hopeful expectation. “What has been?”

Jemma tucked a piece of hair behind her ears, and looked down at the floor. “My grades,” she evaded. 

Skye dropped back onto the bed with a groan. “I know – ”

She stopped talking as the door opened and their dad peeked in.

“What’s all this noise up here?”

“It’s not noise, Dad!” Skye stated, clearly preparing for another installment of their long-running argument. “It’s music, and I’m trying to teach Jemma how to dance, so she doesn’t look like a square at Homecoming tomorrow night.”

“Jemma knows how to dance,” their dad argued. “I distinctly remember paying for lessons.”

“She knows how to _waltz_ ,” Skye countered sarcastically. “Like a ‘proper English lady.’”

“You and Aunt Peggy always say that like it’s – ” Jemma tried to say, but Skye kept talking over her.

“I’m talking about _real_ dancing.”

Jemma looked at her dad with a little eye roll, and he winked back at her before trying to look stern.

“What’s this boy’s name?”

“Jasper Sitwell.”

“He drives a _car_? I don’t like the idea of you on a motorcycle like some boys seem to prefer these days.”

Jemma paused. She took a breath, trying not to reveal anything. “He doesn’t have a car, but he’s borrowing his dad’s.”

“So, he probably doesn’t know much about them. You’ll have to flag someone down for help if you have problems, then. Because I know you don’t know how to fix a flat tire or anything, do you?”

“Geez, Dad, you writing a book?” Skye muttered, but they both ignored her. 

Jemma was starting to feel a little panicky. Her dad lifted an eyebrow at her as he waited. Surely he couldn’t know…

“I’m sure we won’t have any problems,” she finally said.

“Mom and I are going out tomorrow too, and Skye’s spending the night with friends. But I expect you to come straight home after the dance.”

“I will,” Jemma agreed.

“No detours to Magnolia – ” Skye made a face at the reference to where kids often went to park. “ – or…anywhere else.”

They continued to hold each other’s eyes for a while. Jemma tried not to blink. Her dad was a regular, boring civil servant. He didn’t have interrogation skills, and Jemma could outlast him, she was sure of it.

She dropped her eyes away, blushing a bit. “Straight home, Dad. I promise.”

With that, he left. A few moments later, Skye’s pillow hit Jemma in the stomach, and she looked up in surprise.

“What was that for?!”

“You’re the worst liar,” Skye hissed.

“I’m _not_ going to Lovers’ Lane with _Jasper Sitwell_.”

“Yeah, because you’d rather go there with someone else.”

Jemma half-turned, patting at her ponytail nervously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Skye climbed to her knees, spreading her arms out emphatically. “Angie down the street says Leo Fitz drops you off on his motorcycle every Thursday afternoon.”

“Oh, that’s…that’s…that’s…”

Skye raised her eyebrows at Jemma as she waited for an explanation.

“He’s just teaching me about cars.”

Skye blinked, then tilted her head in condescending disbelief. Jemma sighed, picked the pillow up off the floor, walked over and climbed onto the bed. She collapsed backwards, hugging Skye’s pillow to her stomach, and Skye curled up next to her. 

“I don’t know what it is,” she confessed.

“Has he kissed you?” Skye asked. “You’d tell me, right?”

“He hasn’t kissed me,” Jemma confirmed. “I…I _think_ he wants to, but he just – he won’t. I don’t know why not.”

“You should just kiss him then.”

“Skye!”

“Stop being such a ‘proper English lady’ about it. You better do it soon, because Dad obviously has heard something and he might put the kibosh on it before you get a chance.”

“I’m not – I’m not trying to be proper about it,” Jemma said, blushing a little as she thought about all the improper things she wanted to do with him. “I’m just…scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of how I feel about him. Of how he feels about me. Of the future.”

“You’re on the hook,” Skye realized.

Jemma nodded. “I think so.”

“Then why are you going to the dance with _Jasper Sitwell_?”

Jemma sighed. “Because _he_ asked me.”

**

“Yeah! Go! Go! _Gooooo!_ ”

Jemma laughed as Skye shouted at the action on the field below. “You’re cheering for the wrong team.”

“But the right quarterback! Look at him!”

Jemma shook her head. “Tony Triplett, I think. And what happened to your – ”

Skye made a shushing motion and indicated Jasper meaningfully with her eyes. Jasper leaned around Jemma to look back at Skye. Jemma pretended she didn’t notice how he slipped his arm across her shoulders at the same time.

“Everyone knows you like Grant Ward, Skye.”

Skye huffed in her seat, slouching a bit. “Not anymore,” she declared. “He’s taking _Maria Hill_ to the dance.”

“Maria Hill is perfectly nice,” Jemma argued.

“But she’s not me.”

Jemma nodded in understanding.

“Anyway,” Skye announced, standing up. “There’s Angie and Colleen. We’re going to have a night shift. Bye!”

Then she twisted around to give Jemma a hug. “Try to have fun, OK,” she whispered in Jemma’s ear. After that, she was gone, bouncing down the stairs of the bleachers, waving at her friends.

Oddly, it was that appeal that once again reminded Jemma why this night wasn’t everything she might have hoped for. Up until then, talking with Skye and Jasper, watching the game, listening to the notes of the marching band float across the cool night air, all of it had been actually sort of nice. And now, she could only wonder what Fitz was doing right then.

Jasper opened his mouth to say something, but Jemma turned and spoke over him. “I’m going to powder my nose,” she said, trying to keep a normal tone to her voice. “Do you want anything from the concession stand while I’m up?”

He hesitated for a moment and then nodded, leaning to the side to pull his wallet from his pocket. He handed her some money. “Some popcorn to share, maybe?”

Jemma forced a smile, and then quickly headed down the stairs herself. She waited until she cleared the corner before she reached up to wipe the tears from her eyes. She hurried towards the bathrooms, barely even noticing Lance and Barbara making out under the bleachers. And then, finally, she was there. She pulled the door open and breathed a sigh of relief when she realized no one else was in the room.

She stepped into the stall and tore some paper from the roll. Walking back over to the sinks, she stretched her mouth out and opened her eyes wide as she dabbed at the tears, hoping not to smudge her make-up any further.

And then the door opened. Jemma glanced over, and then quickly turned away, embarrassed to have Barbara see her like this.

“Oh, hello,” she said, trying to sound natural.

“Enjoying yourself?” Barbara asked, leaning towards the mirror as she touched up her lipstick.

“You bet!” 

It was hardly convincing, and Barbara turned around, leaning her weight against the sink. “Boys don’t really understand events like this,” she observed casually. “You don’t want to know what I promised Lance to even get him to come to the game. And I think Fitz just plans to work on his car all night long.”

Jemma swallowed past the lump in her throat and forced a smile. Then she ducked her head as she looked through her purse and pulled out her compact. 

“Here,” Barbara offered, stepping closer and taking the compact. She took the puff out and patted at the red skin of Jemma’s cheeks and just under her eyes. After she finished, she closed the compact and handed it back to Jemma. “Perfect.”

Jemma’s smile was a little less strained. She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. Barbara faced the mirror again, and Jemma started walking for the door. 

“I love your shoes, by the way,” Barbara called out. “I could never dance in heels like those; I’d twist my ankle.”

Jemma turned to look at her again, holding the door open as she furrowed her brow in confusion. She had seen Barbara wear shoes with much higher heels. And then Barbara winked and she suddenly understood.

Jemma fought a genuine smile. “Thanks, Barbara.”

“Oh God, you’re not my mother. Call me Bobbi.”

**

“I’m really sorry, Jasper. I just feel awful. I shouldn’t have worn these shoes.”

“It’s fine, Jemma. Are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor or something?” Jasper asked, concerned yet clearly masking disappointment as well. 

One of his arms was around her waist, and she held the other tightly as she limped up the steps to her front door. 

“Oh, I’m sure,” she replied, pasting on an apologetic, slightly strained smile as she turned to open the door. “I’m just going to put it up and rest a bit.”

Jasper sighed under his breath, and Jemma looked at him again. “I had fun otherwise,” she informed him politely.

“Oh, me too,” he responded quickly. “Would you want – ”

“Oh!” Jemma faked a wince as she shifted her weight. “I better get inside.”

“Right, sure. Sure.” 

Jemma hopped through the door, barely putting any weight on her foot. She once again turned to face him. “Good night, Jasper.”

He leaned in and Jemma quickly turned her head so his lips landed on her cheek. She wasn’t going to let him be her first kiss, even if she felt bad about ruining his night.

“Ah, good night, Jemma,” he said, sounding rather discouraged. Jemma closed the door before he could say anything else.

She peeked out the front window, watching as he stared at the door for a while, walked down the steps, twisted to look back at the door, and finally, finally went back to his car. As soon as his taillights disappeared down the road, she ran towards the door to the garage. She was already feeling guilty; she’d just have to add breaking her promise to her dad and driving Lola to the list of reasons why.

**

The bench of the picnic table outside the garage wasn’t at all comfortable, but that never stopped Fitz from lying on it before. He stared up at the moon and took a long draw on his cigarette. He really should just go home, see if his mom was still awake or if his uncle was still sober. Mack was long gone, and he didn’t feel like working on the car anymore.

He just closed his eyes, though, humming along to the song playing on the radio in the garage. 

He opened his eyes again at the sound of tires crunching over the gravel. He sat up, confused, straddling the bench and twisting to see who was driving in so late. When he recognized the car and, more importantly, the driver, he inhaled sharply. He dropped the cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out with his foot. Then he stood, walking slowly over to the car, resting his hands on his lower back as he waited for her to park and climb out. 

She walked up right in front of him, her expression somewhere between determined and apprehensive. He dropped her gaze.

“Nice dress,” he said. He reached a finger out, flicking the fabric along her shoulders. “What do you call this?”

“Tulle,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper. 

He looked back up at her again, holding eye contact and feeling rather breathless. “How was your night?” he asked, half-dreading the answer despite the fact that it had apparently ended early and she had sought him out instead.

“Fake out,” she confessed.

He breathed in deeply. “Sorry,” he replied, trying not to smile in relief. 

“The dance was fine,” she clarified, and Fitz noticed she was shaking. He reached out to run his hands up and down her arms. “Just the wrong partner,” she added softly. 

They stared at each other another moment, and then Fitz moved away. Stepping into the garage, he leaned over and turned the volume of the radio up. She was smiling widely when he turned back around, her arms wrapped around her waist in a little hug. But she let go to reach for his hand when he held it out to her. He pulled her closer, into his arms, and they started to sway back and forth to the song. 

He ducked his head and leaned a bit, exhaling as their cheeks brushed against each other. His eyes drifted closed when he felt her soft skin.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you,” he murmured.

She pressed on his shoulder, forcing him to take a step even closer. “I wish you had,” she whispered back.

He twitched his head in her direction. “Jemma,” he breathed out, and then she met him halfway and their lips were joining.

It was hardly Fitz’ first kiss. He had done more, _much_ more, with other girls, but none of that had ever been as terrifying or sweet as this. He lifted one hand up, stroking the tips of his fingers along her cheek. She sighed as he deepened the kiss, pulled her even closer and slipped his tongue into her mouth.

Eventually they broke apart, and Jemma immediately wrapped her arms tighter around his shoulders as she stepped into a hug. Fitz crossed his arms low around her waist and they held each other for several minutes. They had stopped dancing long before then, but it wasn’t until an advertisement came over the radio that they finally pulled away.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he confessed.

“Why didn’t you?”

After a long pause, he attempted to joke, “Didn’t want to mess up your hair.” 

She hesitated as well. “I have a brush,” she said, trying to match his tone.

“Not what I meant, really,” he replied with a little shrug.

“I know. But I think you’re more worried about my hair than I am.” 

Her meaning was more than clear; she gave him a coy smile and reached up to her hair to untie the scarf holding it back. She gave it to him, but he was too distracted by the way her hair spilled over her shoulders to really notice as she pressed the fabric into his hand. Fitz finally smiled, unconsciously adjusting his grip until the scarf was twisted between his fingers.

“I should go home,” Jemma regretfully declared.

Fitz nodded, not trusting his voice. He turned, sliding a hand along her back as he walked her towards her car. She slowly stepped away from his embrace, a little blush on her cheeks as she pulled the door open and climbed back into the driver’s seat. Fitz blinked, inhaled sharply, and stepped forward, crouching down next to her. Even as he moved, he pulled his jacket off. 

“If you’re going to be driving around at night with the top down and nothing but that dress on, you’re going to catch your death,” he warned. 

Then he straightened, reaching out to drape the jacket over her shoulders. She shifted around until her arms were through the sleeves. He grabbed the top buttons of the jacket, holding the two edges together as he bent down again and pulled her into another, quick kiss.

“Drive safe,” he instructed, his voice rough, when they broke apart again.

She stroked one hand down his cheek, the smile on her face nearly blinding him. “See you soon.”

Fitz watched as she reversed out of the parking lot and until her taillights disappeared. And then he turned around, walked over to his car in the back of the garage, and leaned in. He tied the scarf around the arm of the rearview mirror, unable to control his grin as he did so.


	5. Chapter 5

Jemma couldn’t wait until Monday at school to see him again, and definitely not until their Thursday lesson. She couldn’t even wait 24 hours and so went back to the garage the very next morning. Fitz grinned as soon as he saw her, tossed the wrench he was holding aside and quickly wiped his hands off on a towel. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, walking up to her. He hesitated for a moment, then placed his hands on her waist and bent down to kiss her cheek. 

Jemma’s mouth was beginning to hurt from smiling. And it made her even happier to see how happy he looked. She was used to seeing him behave like a cool cat, a bad news greaser that no good girl should be with. She had started to realize how much of an act that was, but his attitude that morning only confirmed it. His smile was boyish, and his eyes bright, and she wanted to kiss him so badly.

So she did, reaching one hand up and sliding her fingers along his slick curls before hooking her hand around the back of his head to pull him down. He went willingly.

But he broke the kiss only moments later. He reached up to remove her hands from around his neck and clasped them in front of his chest instead. Then he twisted slightly, looking over his shoulder, presumably for Mack.

“Do you want to go for a ride?” he asked, facing her again. 

“You don’t have to work?”

He shrugged, and Jemma grinned. 

“OK.”

He adjusted his hold on her hand as he turned and ran over to the motorcycle. Jemma giggled as she nearly tripped along after him. When they reached the motorcycle, she hesitated and removed her hand from his grasp, in order to lift both of her hands to the edges of the leather jacket she had put on that morning as soon as she had left the house.

“Do you…want this?” she asked.

He glanced at her in surprise, then let go of the handlebars and walked back around the bike to be closer to her.

“No. No, I want you to wear it.”

Jemma inhaled and then swallowed. She wanted to confirm what exactly he meant, but then he kept talking.

“All the time. I want you to wear it all the time. Here, at – at school. Everywhere.”

She couldn’t stop the wide smile that spread across her face, and she reached up to wrap her arms around him again. One of her feet actually bent off the ground as he tilted her back in another passionate kiss. She felt like Deborah Kerr or Grace Kelly or someone.

“OK, I will,” she breathed out after they broke the kiss but before he let her go. He gave her one more too-happy grin and then walked around to the other side of the motorcycle to climb on. She waited until he had started the motor and straightened the bike and then she took her usual place behind him.

“Oh no,” she suddenly realized as she sat down. “I should – I should probably wait a while for school. A week, maybe.” 

He twisted, looking back at her with an alarmed expression. “Why?”

“Jasper,” she explained.

He actually pouted, and Jemma couldn’t help but laugh.

“Who cares about Jasper?” he asked, almost vulnerable.

“I don’t. I just – it would be – rude.”

He sighed and faced forward again. She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned close, tilting her head up to place her lips close to his ear. He shivered at the contact, and Jemma knew she won.

“Just a week,” she murmured, just loud enough to be heard over the engine.

**

Jemma slammed the door shut quickly, and leaned back against it with a sigh and a grin. Skye glanced up from where she was lying on her bed reading a magazine.

“Geez, knock.”

Jemma didn’t say anything, and Skye looked back up at her curiously.

“What’s buzzin, cuzzin?”

Jemma chuckled throatily. “I – Fitz – ”

Skye sat up abruptly. “Really?!”

Jemma nodded.

Skye hopped off her bed and closed the distance between them. She grabbed hold of Jemma’s hands and then they both started jumping up and down, shrieking. Jemma didn’t remember the last time she felt so silly, but she couldn’t bring herself to care either.

**

It was probably the longest week of her life. Monday was the worst, because she had to formally turn down Jasper’s request for another date, and he was clearly frosted even though he pretended not to be, and it was very awkward. But other days were equally difficult, as well as wonderful, because Fitz didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t looking at her anymore. Whenever she walked past him in the halls, he’d move his whole head as he followed her progress. She’d try to send him scolding expressions, but they weren’t very effective considering she was smiling and blushing the whole time. Bobbi eventually helped her out by placing her hand over Fitz’ face and pushing his head back into the locker. Jemma couldn’t help but laugh at his indignant response, and Bobbi sent her a wink.

**

Fitz checked his watch for the tenth time in the last two minutes. Across the room, Mack chuckled.

“I can’t keep quiet anymore,” Mack said.

“Quiet about what?” Fitz hedged, pretending to start working again.

“I’ve noticed your car has some new decoration.”

“Yep,” Fitz agreed.

“And your jacket’s gone missing.”

“Has it?”

“And you’ve gone to school every day this week.”

“Well, not all day,” Fitz disputed. 

Mack shook his head. “You are real gone on her.”

Fitz shrugged.

“Just…keep it clean in here, all right? At least when I’m around. And no backseat bingo in customers’ cars.”

“Christ, Mack!”

“Just laying out some rules.”

“Well…I wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t what?” Jemma asked, as she walked around the corner of the building.

Fitz stepped around the front of the car to greet her, hoping she hadn’t heard their conversation and very happy to see she was wearing his jacket. He couldn’t say anything at first, and then he heard Mack scoff on the other side of him.

“Hey, Jem,” Mack greeted her. “Nice jacket.”

And then Jemma was blushing, as prettily as always, and Fitz felt his heart thump. Mack walked out, gesturing over her shoulder at the car Fitz was working on and then drawing his finger across his throat. Fitz rolled his eyes. 

Jemma waited just long enough for Mack to disappear and then she was walking towards him. Fitz took two large steps forward to meet her, framing her face with his hands as he pulled her into a kiss. After one long kiss and two smaller pecks, he finally backed away.

“You weren’t wearing this today at school,” he observed.

“I know,” she said breathlessly, still close enough for her lips to brush against his as she talked. “But I’m going to tomorrow.”

He held her away from him, hands on her shoulders as he looked at her earnestly. “You are?”

Jemma nodded, biting her lower lip. “I can’t wait any longer.”

Fitz just had to kiss her again. “I’m going to take you out tomorrow,” he murmured once he broke away and moved his head to the side to bury his nose in her hair.

“You are?” Jemma repeated his earlier question, the smile clear in her voice. “Where?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I’ve never – I’ve never gone with a boy before.”

“I’ve never gone with someone either,” Fitz admitted.

Jemma pulled out of his embrace to give him an incredulous look. Fitz rolled his eyes and nodded in acknowledgment. “OK, I’ve – ” He cleared his throat meaningfully. “Not bona fide. Not with a girl like you.”

“This is bona fide?”

“Very much so.”

Jemma reached down to grasp his hands and then rocked back and forth on her heels. “How about the soda shop? Burgers and milkshakes?”

Fitz nodded. “Fine.”

“And a flick? At the drive-in?”

Fitz glanced at his car, which still wasn’t quite finished. “Ah…”

“I’ll ask my dad for his,” Jemma offered.

He focused on her again, somewhat surprised. “You’ve – you’ve told your parents?”

“Well…no. Not yet. I – ”

“It’s OK,” Fitz quickly assured her. “I understand.”

“No, Fitz, I – ”

“Really, Jemma. It’s fine.” She still looked upset, so he leaned forward and kissed her until she smiled again.

“Definitely the diner,” he said once they separated. “And the drive-in if you can get the car.”

Jemma nodded in agreement. 

“Meanwhile, I’d like to talk to you about spark plugs,” Fitz continued with a grin.

“Ooh,” Jemma responded, letting him lead her to the car. 

Fitz positioned her in front of the engine, then stepped behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, guiding his palms down her forearms until they were resting just on top of her hands. She chuckled, but leaned back into him.

“Not sure I’ll learn much this way,” she warned.

Fitz shook his head. “Best way to work with spark plugs.”

“Is it?”

“Mmm.”

**

Jemma could hear the buzz of voices growing louder as she walked down the hall. It seemed gossip was spreading fast as more and more people saw her in Fitz’ jacket. She kept her head up, trying not to feel embarrassed about being the center of so much attention.

Suddenly Bobbi appeared next to her. Jemma looked at her in surprise, but Bobbi was glaring at a couple whispering girls until they turned and walked away. And then Bobbi faced her with a smile.

“So…do we get to be friends now too?”

“Oh!” Jemma felt rather stunned. Truthfully, while she never really had any enemies that she knew of, she never really had any close friends besides Skye either. And she imagined she’d lose at least some acquaintances because of all this. “Yes. If you want.”

“Nifty.”

“You…you _want_ to be friends with me?”

Bobbi tilted her head in laughter that echoed off the walls of lockers. Jemma glanced around, feeling even more self-conscious. “Yes, of course,” Bobbi said. “You seem cool, Jemma Coulson. And even if you didn’t, I’ve been friends with Fitz for five, six years, and I’ve never seen him smile so much as he has the last few days. Or come to class so much. I need to know the person who could do that.”

It was Jemma’s turn to laugh. She ducked her head and played with the end of her ponytail.

**

Fitz never thought he’d willingly share a milkshake at the soda shop, and part of him still wanted to feed a knuckle sandwich to every person who did a double-take upon seeing him sitting in the booth. But then he’d just look across the table at Jemma and admit to himself that he’d suffer through a lot worse if that was his reward.

But it was a punishment too, because try as he might, he couldn’t quite control his imagination. And the way Jemma would reach up to hold her hair to the side, lean forward and wrap her red mouth around the straw, the way her cheeks would hollow as she sucked up some of the shake and then the way she’d swallow and lick her lips… Fitz shook his head, angry at himself for thinking such thoughts about a girl like Jemma.

The passion pit wasn’t much better, because she slid over to the middle of the seat and tilted her head against his shoulder. Fitz wrapped his arm around her, pulled her close, and then forgot to breathe when she rested her hand on his thigh. High on his thigh. Surely she didn’t realize how close she was to brushing against his… Perhaps it was wrong of him but he didn’t move her hand. 

He didn’t remember a single scene from the flick.

When she drove them out of the drive-in lot and turned away from the direction she’d need to go to drop him back at his motorcycle, Fitz furrowed his brow in confusion. And he got more and more confused – and more and more nervously excited – when he realized where she was driving instead. By the time, she turned onto Magnolia, his heart was racing. And when she parked the car and turned to face him, he had no hope of forming words.

“I’ve been waiting all night for you to kiss me, Fitz,” Jemma informed him. 

He leaned forward immediately, connecting with her in the middle of the seat. Both of them reached their hands up, grabbing for each other’s faces as things turned heated fast. She mewled soft little moans, and Fitz groaned in amazement as her fingernails scratched at the back of his neck. And the next thing he knew, she had managed to tug him down until they were both stretched across the seat. 

One of her legs hooked around his calf, her foot rubbing up it slowly, and Fitz broke their kiss to drop his lips to her throat. It was overwhelming; Fitz felt almost as if this was his first time making out with a girl but also like he knew everything he could do to make her quake in pleasure and he didn’t quite know where to start.

Because this was Jemma. She wasn’t – she wasn’t like the other girls he had been in this position with. If nothing else, he felt so much more for her than he ever had for anyone else. And he still wasn’t sure he was the type of guy that deserved to be with her like this. 

He slowed their kissing at that thought, drawing back his hand that had just started to tease at the swell of her breast. 

“Fitz?” she asked breathlessly. “What’s wrong?”

Fitz sat up, putting more distance between them. Jemma blinked and her hand lowered onto her chest. She gave him a heavy-lidded, but confused, look. 

“We,” he began, and then cleared his throat. “We should probably get you home. It’s getting late.”

“Oh!” Jemma sat up quickly, turning away from him. He could see a little blush rising on her cheeks. “Yes, I suppose.”

“Jemma,” he practically whispered, reaching one hand out to stroke her hair.

She leaned away, bending forward to start the car.


	6. Chapter 6

Jemma walked down the hall to her first class Monday morning. She had spent the entire weekend smiling to herself about the date – and worrying about how it ended. She wondered if – 

She yelped as someone grabbed her arm and pulled her into a side hallway. But she figured out what was happening pretty quickly when a pair of familiar lips descended on hers. Jemma moaned, her books dropping to the ground as her hands lifted to his shoulders and she tilted her head back to let him deepen the kiss.

Eventually Fitz pulled away and started brushing his lips softly against her neck. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice gravelly. A tingle shivered through Jemma’s whole body at the sound.

“It’s been two days,” she reminded him, but at his little noise of protest, she agreed, “Much too long.”

But when she let her hand drift down from his shoulder and skim towards his stomach, he flinched and backed away. Jemma took a breath, casting her eyes down.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“For what?”

“For…I’m not very good at this, I know. I’m trying to figure out how to – how to kiss. How to touch you. I’m sure I’ll learn but –

She was interrupted by a strangled sort of groan. And then he swooped down to pull her into another, brief kiss. “Trust me, Jemma, you’re good at this. Great. A natural. I just – I don’t want you to think I expect anything. I’m not trying to push you into… We can wai – we don’t ever have to, if you’re not – ”

“Oh!” She exclaimed in understanding. And then she pulled him into a reassuring hug. “I’m not ready, Fitz,” she murmured into his ear, and he nodded. “Not yet, but soon.”

He pulled away to look at her questioningly, and she gave him a sly little smile. He inhaled deeply, holding her gaze without blinking.

“Very soon,” she amended.

**

Wednesday after dinner, Jemma announced she was going to a friend’s house to study. She tried to seem casual, but she guessed only her mother fully believed her. Skye didn’t say anything, and her dad just gave her a look, so she left as quickly as possible.

As she approached the edge of the building, she could hear Mack and Fitz bickering, and she grinned. She stopped just next to the door to listen to them for a few moments. 

“You won’t even try it?” Fitz was asking, clearly frustrated.

“No! You’ve hopped up that rocket enough as it is.”

“It’s not – OK, I’ve been reading a bit about jet propulsion and thinking of how to modify – ”

Jemma furrowed her brow in confused surprise. 

“Yes, well, I’ve been eating lunch with Sigmund Freud, and we both think you’re crazy.”

“Impressive since he’s dead. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, if we – ”

“Fitz, man. When you’re head of NACA or building planes, then I’ll listen to you. Meanwhile, change that oil filter for Mrs. Jackson already.”

Fitz sighed loudly, and Jemma took that as her cue to make some noise and walk in. 

“Hi Fitz! Hi Mack!”

They were both happy to see her, although Fitz’ smile was much wider. Jemma perched on the table in the corner and chatted with them while they worked. Eventually, Mack announced he was going home and Fitz should lock up when he left. Jemma felt her pulse pick up as Mack prepared to leave, and when Fitz shot her a heated look, she exhaled slowly. She swallowed and reached one hand up to pat at her hair. Fitz waited just long enough to hear the sound of Mack’s tires crunching over the gravel and then he moved.

He nearly tripped as he struggled to pull off his coveralls, and then he made some frustrated noises as he wiped his hands off on a rag. Finally, finally, he was coming over to her, and Jemma grinned until he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a kiss.

Several minutes later, they separated, panting for air. Jemma felt a rush of fondness as she looked up at him and saw a smudge of grease on his cheekbone. She reached up, softly rubbed at it with her thumb until it was gone, and then twisted to clean her hand off on the towel sitting on the table next to her. 

He grabbed her hand and pulled her up then, leading her over to his car on the other side of the garage. He opened the door and guided her inside the backseat, repositioning them both until he was wedged up against the far door and she was sitting between his legs, leaning back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, tangling his hands with her own. She sighed, tilted her head up and nuzzled his neck. From that angle, she could see her hair scarf tied around his mirror, and she felt her heart swell with happiness. 

“Fitz,” she murmured.

“Mmm?” 

She looked up and saw his eyes were closed and a tiny little smile was playing at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m on cloud nine,” she whispered. 

He blinked his eyes open and turned to look at her. She watched his throat bob as he swallowed, and finally he said, “Me too.”

She couldn’t hold his gaze though, and she looked forward, moving her hand to play with his fingers splayed over her stomach. “I’ve – I’ve been sweet on you since second or third grade,” she confessed. “That is, I – it wasn’t just because I wanted to learn about cars.”

“I didn’t really think it was,” Fitz said, rather arrogantly, and she elbowed him with no real force. He chuckled. “Second grade, huh? I can see why. I was a stud back then.”

“You were,” Jemma argued, giggling. “You were so shy and quiet, and you had those adorable curls – still do, I know, except you grease them up so much, no one can tell.”

“Hey, I look _cool_.”

Jemma grinned, reaching one hand up behind her to play with the hair at the base of his neck. “I think you should go without one day, just so I can see.”

“Maybe one day. But no one else can see.”

Jemma barked a laugh. “Fine.” After a moment, she continued. “And you had that accent. I’m sad that you’ve lost it.”

“Not fully,” he replied, and Jemma gasped at the hint of a brogue, perhaps a bit more affected than authentic. “Slips out when I talk with me mum. But if y' got pounded by Grant Ward every day because of your curls and your accent and for readin’ too much and for bein’ three inches shorter than all the other lads…”

He trailed off, and Jemma sighed. Then she said, “I used to think we could be friends, because we had that in common.”

“Getting fed knuckle sandwiches by Grant Ward?”

“No,” Jemma laughed. “Being from over there.”

He shifted, turning to look at her curiously. 

“My name’s Simmons,” Jemma explained. “Was. It’s my middle name now. At the beginning of the war, my dad was pretty high up in some British organization or service, I don’t know what exactly, and my parents were – well, they were worried about what was coming. They were friends with my Aunt Peggy. Well, she’s not really my aunt, just old friends with my dad – both of them, I mean. My real dad and… So they arranged for her to take me over here, and they were going to join me later. But they waited too long. Their section of London was bombed during the Blitz. The Coulsons officially adopted me.”

“I’m sorry,” Fitz murmured.

Jemma shrugged. “I don’t really remember them. Bits and pieces, you know. Little moments. I think – I think I can remember my mom singing to me and my dad always had a pipe. But…” She took a breath. “Skye’s adopted too, actually. Her entire village was destroyed. The Howling Commandos found her.”

“As in Captain America?”

Jemma nodded. “As in Captain America. My aunt Peggy is Peggy Carter, his – you know, his sweetheart.”

Fitz made a noise of intrigued surprise, but said nothing else. After several minutes, he inhaled deeply and started speaking in a low, quiet rumble. “My old man was killed weeks before VE Day. _Weeks_. My mum had no other family in Scotland, and she couldn’t – she didn’t take it well. I don’t think she’s ever really gotten over him. She’s bummed out all the time, even still. Hardly leaves her room. We moved here to live with her brother.”

His tone was hard and bitter at the end, and Jemma twisted to look up at him. “You don’t like him?”

Fitz didn’t make eye contact. “My uncle John was wounded in the war and is very angry about it. And he’s not too happy he got burdened with his sister and her good-for-nothing boy either. He probably would have preferred someone like Ward; they seem to have similar ideas about what a man should be like.”

She reached one hand up to his cheek until he finally looked at her again. And then she pulled him down into a sweet, chaste kiss.

“I have no complaints,” she whispered. 

He smiled at her, and then she faced forward again, sighing as he hugged her tighter.

“I was a little slower than you,” he admitted. “In realizing I liked you.”

Jemma grinned. “Yeah, I figured.”

A pause. “It was fifth grade. When you won the spelling bee.”

Jemma twisted around, gaping at him in surprise, and Fitz cocked an eyebrow. She surged forward to kiss him, clumsily turning around in his arms as he slid down to lie fully on the seat. Jemma wasn’t sure how long they moved together, hands caressing, mouths joining and breaking apart, bodies sliding against each other. Eventually, Fitz groaned, placed his hands on her hips and held her still. Jemma unconsciously pressed down, then gasped when she belatedly realized what it was she had been feeling poking into her. 

Fitz whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut. “Baby, we gotta stop,” he choked out. 

Jemma relaxed, lowering down to lie on his chest. His arms moved up, wrapping around her in a hug, and she rested her head in the crook of his neck.

“Soon, Fitz,” she murmured, smiling when he shuddered in response.

**

Jemma and Bobbi leaned towards each other, talking quickly. Fitz didn’t seem to mind being ignored; he was straddling the bench of the picnic table in the schoolyard, pressed up close next to her, one hand resting on the small of her back and the other stealing French fries off her lunch tray. When the bell rang, Jemma jumped in surprise.

“I have to go!” She exclaimed. “I have History all the way on the other side of the building.”

She stood quickly, bending down to pick up her books. When she tried to grab her lunch tray, Fitz held onto it with two fingers, tugging it closer to him. Jemma rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you have class?”

Fitz scoffed. “Biology.”

“You don’t go to Biology?” Jemma asked in despair. “It’s my favorite.”

Fitz made a face. “Too many…fluids.”

Jemma shook her head, then leaned forward to give him a kiss that was maybe too much for school, but far less than what Bobbi and Lance did on a daily basis. 

“See you in Chemistry,” she said.

Fitz nodded, and Jemma ran off.

**

Fitz watched Jemma hurry to class, swallowing and clenching his jaw to prevent himself from smiling too much. And then his good mood was gone, as the flat of Bobbi’s palm smacked upside his head. She just smirked when he turned to her.

“You’re snowed,” Hunter observed, casually popping a fry into his mouth. “Have you…you know?”

Fitz narrowed his eyes at him, but Hunter didn’t acknowledge the implied threat, choosing instead to waggle his eyebrows. Fitz sighed.

“No,” he muttered, staring down at Jemma’s tray of leftover food. He picked up another fry and ate it. “We – ah, she – I – ”

Bobbi snorted. “Well said.”

Fitz huffed. “I’ve never been with a girl like her,” he explained.

“Pretty sure they all have the same parts,” Hunter joked, ducking out of the way of Bobbi’s immediate response.

“No, it’s…” Fitz bent his head. “It’s not just that she’s far too good for someone like me.” 

“Awww,” Bobbi interjected.

“It’s,” Fitz continued, ignoring her. He cleared his throat. “I’ve never…”

After a long pause, Hunter gestured leadingly. “Never?”

Fitz rolled his eyes and leaned forward to whisper harshly. “I’ve never popped a cherry.”

“Ah!” Bobbi nodded in understanding, as they all sat up again.

“It can be a little rough but it’s worth it,” Hunter said, glancing at Bobbi knowingly.

She snorted again. “Oh, you think you were my first. That’s so cute.” Hunter’s face immediately dropped into a wide-eyed, somewhat angry stare, but Bobbi ignored him. “Let me give you some advice. How do I put this so you’ll understand? Oh! Think of it like a car.”

“A car?” Fitz asked in disbelief.

Bobbi nodded. “Take it slow around tight curves. And the engine needs lots of lubrication. The more lubrication, the better. Really can’t have too much oil.”

“I got it,” Fitz interrupted.

“Remember, Bobbi,” Hunter chimed in. “He doesn’t like biological fluids.”

Bobbi continued to ignore him. “I know you guys are usually too impatient, but you might consider giving her, ah, the right of way, if you follow me. _And_ red lights mean hit the brakes. No rolling stop, no proceed with caution. I’m not kidding, Fitz.”

“Jesus, Bobbi, I wouldn’t,” Fitz replied. 

“Finally, no flip-top, OK? Put the roof up.”

There was a moment of silence, and Fitz furrowed his brow in confusion. Before he could ask, Hunter laughed. “I think your metaphor is falling apart there, baby.”

“I can’t believe you know what a metaphor is,” Bobbi shot back. She faced Fitz again. “Wear a condom, dipstick.”

Fitz nodded in understanding. Bobbi stood up then. “I have to go to class now too. I’m going to be late as it is.” She leaned forward and patted Fitz’ shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Besides, how’s she going to know any different if you’re no good?”

“Oh. Thanks,” Fitz said sarcastically.

She left then, and Hunter looked after her. “Who was it?” he shouted. “Clint? It was Clint, wasn’t it? I’ll kill him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I loathe baby as a pet term, but it *sigh* fits with the times. Twitched a bit whenever I typed it until I got used to it. 
> 
> Also: NACA is not a typo! The National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics was the predecessor to NASA, which was founded in 1958. And there’s your history lesson for the day.


	7. Chapter 7

“Jemma, please stay after a moment.”

Jemma was a little surprised by the request, but simply sat back in her chair as the rest of her classmates left the biology room. Once everyone was gone, she stood and walked up to the front table.

“Yes, Miss Weaver?”

“Congratulations, Jemma, top score in the class as usual.”

“Oh!” Jemma blushed. “Thank you.”

Miss Weaver folded her hands on the table in front of her. After a moment’s hesitation, she began to speak again. “I understand that you’ve been spending time with Mr. Fitz.”

Jemma nervously reached up, checking the base of her ponytail. “Yes,” she finally said.

“I suspect that’s why he’s been in school more these days, which I’m happy to see. Although I’ll note that he still isn’t coming to my class.”

Jemma couldn’t stop her laugh. “I can’t work miracles,” she apologized.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Miss Weaver joked. “But if you would, please tell Fitz that I’ll need to see him in class again, if he’d like to graduate. His exam grades won’t be enough this year; the labs are too large a component of the course.”

Jemma’s mouth gaped as she struggled for a response. “Well, I’ll tell him,” she finally said. “But I won’t promise anything.”

“That’s all I can ask,” Miss Weaver responded, smiling at Jemma in dismissal.

Jemma turned around and started walking to the classroom door. She only made it a few feet, however, before turning around again. 

“Miss Weaver…he must do pretty well on the exams if he’s passed with just them before.”

Miss Weaver pursed her lips. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but…he’s right at the top with you, Jemma. I’ve never known how he manages it, but I can’t find any evidence of cheating.”

“Hmm.” Jemma stood silently for a moment. “Thanks, Miss Weaver.”

**

There had been too many unexplainable moments, too many odd references, too many coincidences adding up to an undeniable pattern.

Now she just had to get him to admit it.

Jemma was pretending to do homework she had completed months ago, but was really trying to think of a strategy, tapping her foot along to the music on the radio and chewing on the end of her pen. Just steps away, Fitz’ feet were shuffling in a half-dance, and she could hear him singing under his breath. He was distracted by both the music and the engine he was working on, and it really was the best possible moment. 

She sighed, affecting a tone of frustration. “I just can’t figure out number three on the math assignment,” she lied, just barely loud enough to be heard over the radio. “I think it must be a logarithmic function but – ”

“Mm-mm, exponential,” Fitz replied unthinkingly.

Jemma put her elbow on the table, and rested her head against her fist. She stared at him, waiting. It took only a few seconds, and Jemma tried not to laugh when he clearly realized what had just happened. His entire body stiffened, and then his head tilted up. 

“Ah…”

She didn’t say anything, and he finally turned to face her. He looked a bit ill. She raised her eyebrows at him.

“I mean…maybe?”

Jemma drummed her fingers against the table, remaining silent.

“Aw, hell,” he muttered, starting to turn around again. 

“Just how smart are you, Leo Fitz?”

He scratched at his eyebrow, but couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m not smart,” he said. “I’m just not bad at math.”

“Or biology, according to Miss Weaver. Or chemistry or physics, I’m assuming, since you’re in the same sections as me.” She gestured around the garage. “Or mechanics. Check any more books out on airplanes?”

Fitz sighed.

“Fitz!” Jemma exclaimed in frustration. “Why?”

“Why what?”

Jemma thought for a moment, prioritizing her questions. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Fitz shrugged, dropping his eyes from her gaze. He seemed vulnerable, and Jemma fought the urge to walk over and hug him.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?” she asked softly.

He tossed the rag in his hands aside, and stepped away from the car, turning his back on her as he ran a hand along his hair. “I know you hate those classes as much as I do. They’re boring, and they’re easy, and I learned a long time ago that the wardens don’t appreciate anyone telling them that so... Jemma, you could coast through them in your sleep. You can waste your time if you want, and play their stupid game, but nothing’s going to come of it for me, so I don’t see the point.”

Jemma exhaled sharply through her nose, pressing her lips together as she looked up to the side. “The point, Fitz. The point is that something _could_ come from it. You – you could get a scholarship or – ”

Fitz turned back around, walked over and knelt in front of her. “I’m practically a drop-out, Jemma. I’m not going to get a scholarship. And I’m not going to go to college; that was never an option for me. This – ” he gestured at the room, “ – is what my life is going to be. If you can’t accept that, then…”

Jemma blinked rapidly, and then she reached out, resting her hands on his shoulders. “I don’t know why _you’re_ accepting it, Fitz. You could have so much more. You could have everything.”

He lifted a hand, grabbed onto one of her own and pulled it to his mouth. Kissing her palm, he stared up at her with wet eyes. He inhaled deeply, and Jemma felt her heart race as she started to understand what he was telling her wordlessly. 

She looked away and took several deep breaths, willing herself to stop shaking. 

“I do hate them,” she admitted, going back in the conversation in an attempt to break the tension between them. “It’s everything I can do not to fall asleep.”

Fitz chuckled softly.

“But I like following the rules and doing what’s expected of me,” Jemma continued. “It makes me feel nice. It – I like to say that I’m a proper English lady. It reminds me to…to behave correctly, to make my parents proud of me, to make sure the Coulsons don’t regret taking me in. But sometimes, I just want to – I don’t know. Scream, maybe. Run away. Break something.”

“So…that explains me then?” Fitz asked.

She looked back at him, already shaking her head to object. But he simply gave her a teasing smile, and she relaxed. 

“You make me feel nice, too,” she added impishly.

His smile turned mischievous, and Jemma barely had a moment to brace herself before he moved up and forward. 

“I’ll make you feel more than that,” he growled. 

Jemma shrieked with laughter, as he pulled her up just high enough to transfer her from the chair to the table. He bent her backwards, dropping kisses all over her face. She could feel her schoolwork getting crushed underneath her but didn’t care.

**

“This is the only place I can find you alone,” Bobbi announced, as she followed Jemma into the bathroom.

“Oh, hi, Bobbi!” Jemma responded, before leaning forward to touch up her lipstick. She only had a few minutes before her next class started, but she had been enjoying herself with Fitz too much over her free period to regret it now.

Bobbi didn’t say anything more, and Jemma watched in confusion as she checked all of the stalls to confirm they were empty. She walked back to Jemma then, reaching into her pocket and pulling something out.

“Here,” she said, handing Jemma the item. “In case he claims he doesn’t have one.”

Jemma flushed an immediate, deep red. She glanced around the empty room, feeling paranoid, and then practically ripped the condom out of Bobbi’s hand. 

“Bobbi!”

Bobbi grinned, turning around and hoisting herself up onto the counter. “Not too late, am I?”

“ _No_.”

“Good. Any questions?”

Jemma felt like her blush was just getting redder and redder. She glanced at her watch, and then decided this was more important than English class. She spoke English, after all. She _was_ English. She turned around and hopped up next to Bobbi.

“Does it…hurt?”

Bobbi nodded apologetically. “Yeah, it’s probably going to.”

“But it gets better?”

“Ohhh, it gets better,” Bobbi confirmed. “I’m gonna give Fitz some benefit of the doubt here. If I’m wrong, though, make sure to educate him.”

Jemma snickered. “How would I do that? I don’t know anything about…all that.”

Bobbi shook her head. “You know if something feels good or not. And you have a 127% in Biology or something, so I’m assuming you know about all your parts. You just have to tell him. Don’t be embarrassed to ask for more of something, or ask him to stop. Boys need all the help they can get sometimes. Lance certainly did.”

Jemma laughed louder. And then she smiled at Bobbi. “You’re a good friend.”

Bobbi nudged her shoulder in response.

**

“Thanks,” Jemma said, as she hugged Skye.

“Just get back before they do, and it won’t be a problem,” Skye responded. “And the fact that I’m staying home, while you steal Dad’s car _on a school night_ for a date with your secret boyfriend…”

“Who would have guessed?” Jemma agreed, laughing.

“Get your kicks tonight,” Skye added, “Because I expect you to spend tomorrow night with me. I never see you anymore.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Tomorrow, I’m all yours,” Jemma promised, and then she ran out the door.

Considering the time constraint, she never even suggested food or the drive-in or anything else. As soon as she picked Fitz up, she headed straight for Magnolia. Fitz leaned against the passenger seat door the whole way, smiling at her with heavy-lidded eyes. She suspected she was well over the speed limit at some points during the drive. 

Unlike her father’s regular car, Lola had bucket seats (or as Fitz had grumbled at one point, “damn birth control seats”) in the front, and the barrier between them soon became intolerable. Jemma couldn’t help but laugh as they twisted, contorted, pushed and pulled each other until finally they fell, a tangle of limbs, into the back. 

Fitz sucked warm, wet kisses all over her chin and jaw and neck, returning every few minutes to her mouth, his tongue probing deep and stroking against hers with slow, smooth pulses. Jemma wrapped her arms tight around his shoulders as she pulled him closer, moaning loudly every time he freed her. 

He was copping a feel through her sweater, and rubbing against her with tiny rolls of his hips. She had started to grow used to the size and shape of the hardness pressing down below, and had spent more and more time imagining how it would feel against bare skin, how it would feel sliding into her. 

“Fitz,” she breathed out.

“Mmm, baby,” he murmured into her neck.

She shook her head and pushed at his chest until he backed away.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Jemma just pulled herself up, leaning towards the front to search through her purse. She finally found the condom Bobbi had given her earlier, and she collapsed back onto the seat. She exhaled, adjusting to a more comfortable position. Fitz was staring at her, clearly confused. 

He figured it out pretty quickly when she pressed the condom into his hand. His eyebrows rose high on his forehead.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Jemma nodded.

His smile was blinding, and Jemma laughed as he fumbled with his belt. She reached her hands out, helping him with the button and zipper of his jeans. She inhaled sharply when he pushed down his pants and she saw him for the first time. Almost unconsciously, she stretched her fingers out, grazing the tip of his –

“Jemma, don’t.” 

She tore her hand away, and instead simply watched, wide-eyed, as he put the condom on. Then he practically fell back on top of her. His hands instantly went under her skirt, and she moved quickly, lifting her hips to help as he pulled off her panties. To her surprise, he didn’t immediately enter her. Instead he leaned down and kissed her again, returning one hand up her skirt. She gasped into his mouth when he touched her, slid his fingers between the wet folds of skin. She rocked her hips, almost involuntarily, spreading her legs wider and pressing against him, whimpering and bucking up when he rubbed a particularly sensitive spot. He went back to it again and again until Jemma was trembling with pleasure.

“Are you sure?” he broke away to ask, his voice unbearably rough. Jemma nodded rapidly.

Fitz positioned himself closer to her, and Jemma tried not to hold her breath or tense up and then –

There was a sharp rap on the driver’s side window. 

Fitz jumped so high he actually bumped his head on the roof of the car, and Jemma squawked in panic. The shock coursed through her so fast, she had no time to be confused. Instead, she hurried to pull on her underwear and straighten her clothes. Next to her, Fitz was muttering curses as he removed the condom and tried to tuck himself into his pants.

Another rap was followed by a beam of light shining through the fogged-up windows. 

“We’re going, we’re going,” Fitz shouted. 

“Open up.”

“Oh my God,” Jemma whispered, covering her face with her hands. 

She peeked through her fingers at Fitz, who seemed as embarrassed as she felt. He glanced at her to make sure she was covered, and then bent forward, stretching his fingers out for the handle so he could open the door.

“We’re _go_ – Chief Fury.”

Jemma slid down in the seat with a whimper. It wasn’t even a beat cop. It had to be the police chief, who also happened to be a close personal friend of her father.

“This car was reported stolen,” the chief informed them.

Fitz exhaled sharply in disbelief, and Jemma squeaked. 

“What?” she finally managed to say. And then she shook her head, leaning over Fitz as she tried to look out at Chief Fury. “Chief, no. It’s me, Jemma. This is my dad’s car.”

“I know,” he said, still looking stern. “And he wanted me to arrest the, his words, hood that I found with you.”

“Oh my God,” Fitz breathed out, his head falling back against the seat. Jemma’s hand tightened nervously around his thigh.

“But…” Fury continued. “Fitz and Mack have saved the city thousands of dollars keeping our patrol cars running. So why don’t you calm down with a nice, long walk home, Fitz? And I’ll escort you back to your house, Miss Coulson.”

Fitz and Jemma stared at each other in despair. 

“No, I’ll – ” Fitz began. 

Jemma shook her head.

“I won’t let you face this alone, Jemma.”

“I won’t let them meet you like this,” she countered. “They’ll never let me see you again.”

“Jemma – ”

“Fitz, please.”

He sighed, then nodded. Leaning over, he gave her a quick kiss, then he opened the car door the rest of the way. Jemma climbed out after him, and immediately moved to the front seat. As she turned the key, she heard Chief Fury call out after Fitz.

“Enjoy the night air, Mr. Fitz.”

She couldn’t hear his exact response, but considering the tone, she hoped Chief Fury didn’t make out his words either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I know Lola doesn’t have a backseat in the show. But Google tells me it’s a 1962 car, so this Lola can look like whatever I want it to.)


	8. Chapter 8

Peggy struggled to hide her smirk at the twin glares Phil and Jemma directed at each other as she stomped in through the front door; Nick followed her with his own expression of amusement. Phil held out his hand, and Jemma slapped the keys into his palm.

“ _Stolen?_ ”

“What would you call it if someone took your car without your knowledge or permission?”

Jemma huffed, opening her mouth to argue, and Phil looked like he had more to say as well. Peggy shared an exasperated eye roll with Audrey, who stepped forward and placed her hand on Phil’s shoulder while kissing Jemma’s cheek.

“Go to sleep, honey. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Jemma flounced away. She was halfway up the stairs when she twisted and shouted back, “And he’s _not_ a hood!”

Peggy couldn’t stop the laugh then, but she masked it with a very fake-sounding cough.

“He’s not, actually,” Nick said from where he was leaning against the door. “I’ve never had him down at the station. Just doesn’t have a lot of support at home.”

“I didn’t ask – ” Phil said.

“Thank you, Nick,” Audrey spoke over him.

Nick sighed. “Do I even want to know what you three were up to tonight?”

“Probably not,” Peggy confirmed. 

He shook his head and pushed off the door, waving over his shoulder as he left.

Phil sighed, placing his hands on his hips briefly before gesturing in the direction of the second floor. “This isn’t like her, lying and sneaking around.”

Peggy shook her head. “Honestly, Phil. Of all the world crises we’ve faced, Jemma’s high school sweetheart doesn’t rank very high. And I _know_ you don’t think you get to make these decisions for her.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t choose _him_.”

“You know,” Peggy reminded him, with a sad smile, “I once knew a skinny boy who grew up with a chip on his shoulder and no father. He turned out all right.”

“He also died,” Phil pointed out, and Peggy flinched a bit. “And if that’s where this kid is headed, I’d rather he doesn’t bring Jemma with him.”

“Oh,” Audrey scoffed. “What makes you think that’s where he’s headed?”

Phil spluttered a bit, gesturing futilely. “Have you seen how fast he drives that bike?”

Peggy and Audrey shared another look and they both burst into laughter. Phil narrowed his eyes in annoyed confusion.

“Yes, dear,” Audrey mollified. “Some boys like to have fun with their vehicles. In fact, I still think you’re mostly just upset she took the car.”

Peggy snickered. 

“Trust your daughter’s judgment, please,” Audrey added.

“I trust her,” Phil argued. “But I know what teenage boys are like, and I don’t trust him.”

Peggy sighed. “Nick’s right, Phil. He’s not that bad – I’ve been looking into him a bit.”

“Oh, you have, have you? And how long, exactly, have you known about this?”

“Probably as long as you have,” Peggy shot back, with another roll of her eyes. “So please don’t act like I’m keeping secrets from you. As I was saying, I’ve been looking into him a bit, and I think he’s worth developing.”

“Really?” Audrey asked, surprised.

“Mmm. I’m going to ask _her_ to evaluate him when she gets back into town.”

Phil looked at her, his entire demeanor changing as he cocked an eyebrow questioningly. Peggy nodded, and then she stood up, stretching.

“I’m going home. Getting too old for this business.” She walked towards the door, and then faced Phil again. “From what I can tell, Mack’s kept him on the right track. Imagine what he could do with another supportive father type in his life.”

“You’ve made your point,” Phil responded.

Peggy smiled, sent a little wave at Audrey, and stepped out into the cool night.

**

In a fit of pique, Jemma threw herself on her bed and started sobbing. Seconds later, she heard her door open and close quickly, and the swish of fabric as Skye rushed over and sat next to her.

“I swear I didn’t sing. He just _knew_ ,” she said urgently. 

Jemma shook her head, crying harder. “I know you wouldn’t,” she choked out.

“I don’t understand how he can just tell when we’re lying,” Skye continued to grumble. “It’s like he has a special power. _And_ I’m grounded this weekend!”

Against her will, Jemma suddenly laughed through her tears. She turned around, sat up and pulled Skye into a hug. Skye patted her back.

“It’s going to be OK,” Skye promised.

Jemma slept fitfully, and her eyes were red when she sat down for breakfast in the morning. Her father didn’t say anything for several minutes, and Skye squeezed her hand under the table.

“Sorry, Daddy,” Jemma finally whispered.

“For?” He prompted.

“Taking the car without asking.”

“And?”

“Not telling you about Fitz.”

“And?”

Jemma paused. Then she narrowed her eyes. “That’s it.”

Her dad turned the page of his newspaper and shook it out a bit. Another moment of silence, and then her mom placed plates in front of them both. She cleared her throat pointedly, and her dad sighed.

“I’m sorry for sending the chief after you.”

Jemma couldn’t think of a response. She wanted to explain to them how much she cared for Fitz. How the whole town had the wrong idea about him. How – 

“You’re grounded for two weeks,” her dad said, lowering the paper to look at her. Jemma sighed and nodded. She looked up in surprise when he continued with, “And after that, he should come to dinner and introduce himself properly. From now on, I expect him to meet you here before you go out and to get you home at a reasonable hour.”

Jemma and Skye looked at each other with wide eyes.

“All right,” Jemma agreed.

“I’d rather you take a car than that motorcycle,” he continued firmly, folding the newspaper and tossing it on the table next to him. “And I’d tell you to stay away from Magnolia, but I know that isn’t likely. Just – ” He coughed. “ – be responsible. And I’ll be speaking with your teachers. If any of them say your grades are slipping, we’ll revisit this conversation. And – ”

“Phil,” her mother interrupted. 

“Go on and eat your breakfast now,” he changed the subject. “You’ll be late for school.”

Jemma had never eaten faster, and then she ran up to her room for her books. When she made it back downstairs, she threw her arms around her father’s shoulders. He patted her elbow while she kissed his cheek, and then she was moving again.

Fitz was pacing back and forth in front of her locker when she arrived at school, and he gave her the most apprehensive expression she’d ever seen once he spotted her. She rushed up to him and hugged him tight.

“It’s OK,” she murmured. “It’s going to be OK.”

**

“I’m going to be sick,” Fitz moaned, as he braced his arms on the sink in the garage’s bathroom, head bent down as he breathed deeply.

“Do it in the toilet,” Mack responded unsympathetically.

Fitz shook his head, accompanying the motion with a small grunt. Finally, Mack put down his tools and walked over to the bathroom. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest and hiding a smirk.

“I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen you without all that grease in your hair.”

“You’re just jealous, Chrome dome,” Fitz argued. He looked up at his reflection and made a face. “I look like such a Clyde.”

“You look like a nice boy about to meet his girl’s parents.”

“Oh God,” Fitz groaned, stepping back from the sink as he bent nearly double. 

“At least your forced celibacy gave you enough time to finish that car, and you don’t have to show up on the motorcycle,” Mack pointed out.

“You’re not helping.”

Mack chortled. “You better get going. Don’t want to be late.”

Fitz took a few deep breaths, then nodded to himself. He straightened, about to step out of the bathroom, until something hanging on the coat hook caught his eye and he remembered.

“Uh…Mack?”

“Hmm?”

Fitz hesitated before gesturing somewhat awkwardly. Mack leaned forward so he could peek around the door and see what Fitz was pointing at. And then he grinned. He reached out, grabbed the tie and looped it around his own neck. 

“When we have more time, I’ll teach you how to do this yourself.”

“’Cause I’m gonna need to know,” Fitz mocked. 

Mack pulled the loosely knotted tie off and handed it to Fitz, who placed it around his own neck. Mack stepped forward to adjust the knot. Fitz sighed and shook his head, looking over Mack’s shoulder.

“Fitting,” he observed. “Wearing a noose.”

**

Jemma had been pacing back and forth nervously for the last 20 minutes, part of her convinced that Fitz wouldn’t show up. But there was a knock on the door five minutes before he was scheduled to arrive, and Jemma froze in sudden fear and not just a little bit of relief. That one moment of weakness lost her the advantage, and Skye reached the door seconds before she could.

Skye’s squeals of mirth rang through the night air, but Jemma couldn’t react at all. For a moment, she didn’t even recognize him. It was only when he struggled to say something, winced, and began to turn around, that Jemma bent forward and grabbed his sleeve. 

“Skye, stop it,” Jemma scolded, even as she pulled Fitz inside the house. He seemed like he was about to pass out, and all of Jemma’s own nerves disappeared as she gave his arm a tiny, supportive squeeze.

She slid her hand down until she could link their fingers in a tight grip. She led him into the room, just as her parents entered.

“Mom,” Jemma said. “Dad, this is Fitz.”

Considering just how hard everyone was clearly trying, it was impressive how disastrous the dinner began. Fitz sat stiffly next to her, barely managing one-word answers to any questions sent his way and, once, almost knocking his water glass over. And her dad kept calling him Leo. Jemma would feel him flinch every time, and pointedly call him Fitz the next time she addressed him, but her dad refused to get the message. Finally, she took drastic measures.

“Phil,” she said, forcing a casual demeanor. “Would you pass the beans? They’re next to Mary Sue.”

There was a palpable silence, broken only by a scrape of silverware against a plate and a noise of indignation from Skye. Fitz turned to stare at her, aghast. Jemma calmly took a sip of her water. After several long moments, Jemma noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. She glanced over to see her mom’s shoulders shaking in silent laughter, her head turned aside and the back of her hand pressed against her mouth.

Then her mom took a deep breath. “Dessert?” she asked cheerfully, amusement tinging her voice.

But it seemed to work. Everyone relaxed for the rest of the meal, and her dad started calling Fitz _Fitz_. Eventually, though, things started to get awkward again. Her parents were nursing their coffees with their half-eaten desserts, and Skye had begged to be excused ten minutes before that and had abandoned Jemma to hide in her room. No one said much of anything, and Fitz kept quietly clearing his throat. His fingers were twitching a bit in her hand, which he held tightly under the table, and Jemma knew he was craving a cigarette to calm his nerves. 

Finally, her dad took pity. “All right, you two,” he said. “Go on, cut out of here.”

Jemma dropped Fitz’ hand as she hopped out of her seat, and Fitz was right behind her. Before they even made it a few steps, though, her dad added, “Have her home by 9:30.” Jemma was too cautious to remind him that was an hour before her curfew.

“Yes – ” Fitz began to reply.

“Phil,” her mom said.

“Ten,” he corrected, which only earned him another reprimand. “10:30.”

“Yes, sir.” Fitz finally said.

Jemma grabbed his wrist and began to walk again before they could receive any more instructions. But Fitz stopped her at the door of the kitchen and turned back around.

“Mrs. Coulson,” he said, his voice clearly nervous but still steady. “Mr. Coulson, sir. I know Jemma could do a lot better than me, but…I love your daughter, and I would die before I hurt her.”

Jemma found it difficult to breathe as she stared at Fitz. Her heart was beating wildly and the only thing she could hear was a whooshing noise. She wasn’t entirely sure how her parents responded or when she and Fitz had started walking again, but the next thing she was consciously aware of was the front door closing behind them.

She faced Fitz, pushing him against the door and then grabbing onto his tie. She used it to hold him still as she planted a kiss on his lips.

“I love you too,” she whispered when they pulled away.

Fitz’ only reply was a grin, and then he was leading her down the steps towards the car. She ran a hand over the hood, admiring the work he had done while she had been sitting at home grounded. He pulled the door open for her and guided her into the seat before closing it again. While he walked around to the driver’s side, Jemma leaned forward, grabbing the lighter and pack of cigarettes from the dash. She took one out and handed it to him as soon as he climbed into the seat.

“Oh thank God,” Fitz muttered, immediately sticking it into his mouth and lighting it. He took two long drags, blowing the smoke out with shaky breaths, before he started the car and reversed out of the driveway.

He didn’t look at her until they reached the stop sign at the corner. “What do you want to do?” he asked. “See a flick?”

Jemma stared at him meaningfully. “Fitz. This has been the longest two weeks of my life.”

Fitz held her gaze for a long moment. Then he looked away to check the intersection and turn in the direction that would take them to Magnolia.

**

Jemma’s breath hitched and caught, and she gripped Fitz’ bicep with one hand while bending her other arm back and pressing the hand against the rear passenger window. Her head rested on Fitz’ jacket; it had been one of two pieces of clothing he had fully removed from her, and Jemma had felt such fondness as he folded it and then lowered her slowly back onto it. Now, she could feel the leather against her cheek as she turned her head to the side. Somewhat randomly, she focused on the floor of the car, where her underwear and Fitz’ open wallet had been dropped. Her skirt was bunched up around her waist, and the open ends of his pants were scratching along her legs, and to be honest, all of the desire she had been feeling only minutes before had been replaced with sharp discomfort.

She ran her hand up his arm and ultimately to his head, unintentionally pulling his hair after an unexpected deep thrust caused her to wince. Then she smiled, albeit a strained sort of smile, as she remembered the floppy curls on the boy she had first noticed so many years ago. In a way, she was grateful that he had not only come to dinner but also made himself vulnerable with his appearance, by wearing the tie that he had removed almost immediately and by forgoing his armor of pomade. It made her feel like she wasn’t the only one experiencing something new and daunting, the only one willing to be brave or to do anything for the person she loved.

“Jemma,” he moaned, lifting one hand and placing it on her cheek. “Look at me.”

Jemma shuddered, facing him, licking her lips before biting the lower one again. He was moving slowly, his arms shaking from the effort of holding himself up and holding himself back. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked, concerned.

She closed her eyes briefly, letting out a quiet whine as she nodded.

“Do you want me to stop?” 

She shook her head quickly, squeezing her knees tighter against him. He dropped his head forward, burying it in her neck. She could feel his warm breath against her skin, and his hips started rocking ever so slightly faster. She cringed and then took a deep breath, trying to relax. Her hand dropped from the window, and fell to rest against his shoulders; she scrunched the fingers of her other hand in his curls, scraping his scalp. He shivered, turning his head to catch her lips in a kiss.

It wasn’t much longer before Fitz’ movements suddenly stilled, and then he groaned deeply and seemed to spasm. He sighed and settled his full weight on her, and it was then she realized he had finished. After a few moments, he lifted his head. Reaching up, he caressed her face again, drawing her into another kiss. 

“I love you so much, Jemma,” he murmured against her lips, and then he reached down and pulled out of her.

Rather unexpectedly, she burst into tears, lifting one hand up to cover her face and turning her head away from him. Fitz quickly climbed to his knees, hovering over her and reaching his hands out ineffectively.

“Baby? Baby, what is it? Did – did I do something? Are you hurt?”

Jemma shook her head, desperately trying to control her sobs with no success. 

“I’m sorry,” he beseeched. “We shouldn’t have done this.”

Jemma shook her head again, reaching out and grabbing onto his shirt. “I’m glad we did,” she managed to say. “It was wonderful.”

“Then why are you crying?!” 

“I don’t know,” she blubbered. She tugged at his shirt until he stretched out on the seat, turned them both to their sides and pulled her into a hug. She buried her face against his chest. “It was wonderful,” she repeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how you all were “Crisis! Coulson disapproves, oh no!” As if he can stand firm in the face of Audrey and Peggy and a crying Jemma and the mere mention of _her_. 
> 
> And speaking of crying Jemma: LOL.


	9. Chapter 9

For the second time, Miss Weaver asked Jemma to stay after class. They hadn’t had any recent exams, so she wasn’t sure why, and she walked up to the front desk somewhat nervously. She hoped it wasn’t because it had been obvious she had spent the entire class thinking about a few nights ago with Fitz, the things they had done together and the way he held her after and – Jemma shook her head and focused again.

Miss Weaver smiled at her as soon as she made it to the front. “Jemma, I have some news that you might be interested in. Mr. Thompson is planning to teach an accelerated college prep course this summer, covering some more advanced biology. There are limited seats, but I think you should apply for one of them. I certainly will recommend you to him.”

“Oh! Yes. Yes, Miss Weaver, thank you. I’ll talk to him!”

She was still excited by the idea when she saw Fitz later, and he grinned at her enthusiasm.

“Only you would flip over summer school, Jem.”

With a playful scowl, she poked at his stomach. “You’ll be taking a different kind of summer school, by the way, if you don’t start going to class. I’ve told you before what Miss Weaver said about labs.”

Fitz sighed, turning away from her. “Jemma, I can’t. I’m fine with biology on a theoretical level but – there are dissections; I can’t.”

“I’ve seen you _covered_ in – ”

“Oil! Transmission fluid! Not _animal guts_. I just…” He convulsed in disgust. “Getting my hands all sticky groping around in tissues. No. No.”

Jemma leaned up close, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “You didn’t have any complaints the other night.”

He moved shockingly fast, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing her up against his locker. He bent down, letting his lips hover just above her own as he lifted his other hand to tug playfully at the end of her ponytail.

“Miss Weaver’s a heart,” he murmured, “but I’m pretty sure she won’t let me do that to you for my practical component. Unfortunately.”

Jemma giggled, then wrapped her arms around his neck. “What if I promised to help you study?”

Fitz groaned and finally kissed her. Before it got too heated, though, she pushed him away and slipped out from his embrace.

“If you’ll excuse me, _I_ have class.”

She smiled to herself as she walked away and heard him whimper and collapse against his locker.

**

“You gotta do it a bit faster, baby,” Fitz instructed, a smile clear in his voice. “And harder.”

When she arrived at the garage that evening, Mack was getting ready to split, and Fitz was kneeling by his bike, polishing the chrome. She had been filled with an overwhelming urge to learn how to drive it. Fitz was happy to comply, and he sat behind her, perched on her usual seat with his feet planted firmly on the ground to balance the bike. And if he rested his hands low on her hips, pressing his fingers into her flesh to guide her as she tried to start the motor, well, she was willing to pretend that was part of the lesson. 

Jemma nodded, paused a moment to lean back against him, and then stood again. When she dropped back down, the motor finally started. She nearly cheered. 

The muscles of Fitz’ thighs flexed as he continued to hold the bike in place while she lifted her feet onto the pedals. She leaned forward to get a better grip on the handlebars and – oh. She ducked her head, blinking in surprise and trying not to gasp. 

“You’re just – ” she cleared her throat and swallowed. “You’re just right on top of the engine in this seat, aren’t you?”

There was a noticeable pause, and then several things happened at once. Fitz scooted closer, until he was snug against her. One hand slid around her waist, landing low on her stomach, while the other maneuvered her hip to tilt her a bit. Jemma’s mouth dropped open and all the little muscles in her face contracted at the change in pressure and the growing sensation. And Fitz spoke, his voice low and deep and right behind her, “Yes. You are.”

He started moving her, inching her forward with the hand on her hip and then pulling her back with the one on her stomach. She could feel him grow harder behind her, poking into her backside, and she flushed, arousal laced with, but beating out, shame.

“The trick – ” Jemma’s eyes closed as he growled into her ear. “ – is to know when to lean into it and when to counterbalance.”

Jemma’s breath was coming heavy and broken, and she could barely understand what he was saying. The content didn’t matter though; what mattered was the rumble of his voice. 

“Grip with your thighs, baby,” he directed, and Jemma mindlessly obeyed. 

He pressed into her, using his weight to bend her forward and reaching past her. He grabbed the throttle over her hand and revved the engine. Jemma cried out, letting go and collapsing, her hands dropping to grasp at the column in front of her as a strong wave rolled through her body and left her trembling.

Fitz gave the engine a few more pulses before letting go and moving around to shut the bike off. Then, he wrapped both arms around her waist and pulled her back. She leaned against his chest, struggling to breathe, and he bent his head down to latch his lips onto her neck.

“Fitz,” she eventually murmured, one hand squeezing rhythmically at his thigh. “Let’s try again.”

After a moment, he asked, somewhat confused, “The motorcycle?”

“No,” Jemma mouthed, shaking her head.

“Oh. Oh! Anytime,” Fitz promised.

Jemma shook her head again. “Now.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

She sensed him turning his head, looking around. And then he moved quickly, nearly knocking over the bike as he climbed off. He grabbed her hand, pulling her along as she followed him on shaky legs to his car. They hurried into the backseat, and Jemma fumbled with the button of her pants. Of all days to wear pants instead of a skirt. 

She finally got them open though, slipping her underwear off at the same time. She felt swollen and sensitive down below, and she moaned when the cool air in the car met her wet skin. Fitz knelt on the seat next to her, his jeans and underwear already pushed down as he flipped through his wallet. 

And then suddenly, he swore and threw the wallet away. He fell sideways against the back of the seat and put one hand over his eyes.

“I don’t – I never put another one in after the last time. I wasn’t expecting – ”

Jemma stared at him, not understanding for a few beats and then feeling the disappointment crash over her. She watched, her heart pounding, as he sat down on his heels with a sigh. She opened and closed her mouth, trying to think, trying to remember to be smart and responsible and – 

“I’ve heard some girls say their boyfriends never wear one. They don’t like them,” she said, speeding up toward the end with nerves. 

Fitz looked at her, surprise vying with temptation on his face. “Jemma…”

“And it’d just be the one time, Fitz,” she continued. “What are the odds?”

“Jemma,” he tried again. She reached up and dragged him on top of her, before sliding her hand down to wrap around him even as she captured his mouth in a kiss. With her other hand, she grabbed one of his, tugging to bring his fingers low enough to feel her. She hissed a bit at the contact, and her stomach clenched in a weak imitation of the contractions she had felt a few minutes ago.

He groaned, breaking away from the kiss to say, “I could…I could just pull out.”

She nodded rapidly, and he couldn’t seem to restrain himself any longer. Wrapping one arm underneath her armpit and up to grip her shoulder, he reached the other hand below to guide himself as he slid into her slowly but steadily. She circled her legs around his waist and reminded herself to relax. 

When he was in all the way, she finally realized she wasn’t breathing and gasped for air. The discomfort from last time was still there but much less, replaced instead by an oddly satisfying sense of fullness. He tilted his head to catch her in another deeply passionate kiss. And then they started sliding together, Jemma following his earlier hints, figuring out when to move with him and when to move against him, pushing through the lingering pain. Fitz’ hand remained below, his thumb rubbing circles on the part of her that was always so responsive. She broke the kiss and licked her lips, her eyelids fluttering and her hips rocking and rolling faster and faster. 

Soon, she started to feel the same urgency she had experienced on the motorcycle, pleasant tension ratcheting up until it seemed to explode. Jemma shouted, a strangled sound that hurt her throat as the sound was ripped from her, and she tightened her arms and legs around Fitz to hold him close, keep him deep.

But after only seconds, he was struggling against her embrace, mumbling small noises of protest and warning. She relaxed unconsciously, letting him loose just enough to move, and she heard his breath catch as he slipped out of her and splashed onto her skin.

Sometime later, she was still sprawled in the backseat of his car, her head on his lap and one palm resting on her forehead as she stared up at the roof in a daze. Fitz was sitting, leaning back against the headrest, one hand dangling a cigarette out the window and the other intertwined with hers over her stomach.

“Bobbi was right,” Jemma whispered.

“Hmm?”

“It got better,” she clarified, sighing out the words. 

She could feel his stomach shake as he chuckled in response. “I’m just glad you’re not crying,” he eventually said.

**

Fitz was more than confused when Jemma dropped down next to him at the lunch table, lips quivering as she wiped at her eyes. He immediately wrapped one arm around her shoulders and used his other hand to tilt her face towards him. Her expression crumpled as she struggled to stop crying.

“What’s the matter?”

She shook her head, sniffling, and Fitz looked helplessly across the table at Bobbi and Lance. They both shrugged.

“Jemma?”

“It’s – it’s Mr. Thompson,” she finally said. “The – the summer biology course.”

“What about it?”

She reached her hand up to brush tears off her cheek. “It’s – Miss Weaver said it’s for the top bio students, but but but Mr. Thompson said he’s reserving all the spots for boys who will actually benefit from it.”

It was probably a good thing that Fitz was more concerned about Jemma at the moment, or else he would have gone to find Thompson to pound some sense into him.

“That _moldy_ …punk,” Bobbi said, almost too angry to form words. “You should report him, Jemma. Complain to someone.”

“Why?” Jemma wailed. “He’s right, isn’t he? I mean, Fitz, you said yourself we have to accept the reality of our futures. I’m not Marie Curie or Mary Anning or Elizabeth Garrett Anderson or – ”

“Yeah, you’re smarter than them,” Lance interrupted. “Um…who are they?”

Fitz rolled his eyes. “ _Scientists_.”

Jemma barked a laugh through her tears. Then she shook her head and looked at her lap. “I should just be happy that I’ll get to go to college.”

“Hey,” Fitz said, rubbing her shoulder. “Remind me who your aunt is again, because I think she’d have something to say about this attitude.”

Jemma sighed and leaned against Fitz. He was about to murmur something sweet and encouraging, something Lance would mock him for later, when Bobbi clapped her hands once.

“Eureka!”

Fitz turned to look at her. “What?”

“Fitz needs to get a spot. And then, in the summer, he can just not go and there will be an open seat for Jemma.”

Fitz blinked. “Ah, Bobbi. It’s college prep. It’s for the top students,” he reminded her.

“Yeah, but you have just over half a year to get your grade up, Fitz!”

“No, she’s right,” Lance said, nodding as he straightened in his seat. “You’re barely passing right now, but if you started going to the labs, doing the homework…you could do it.”

Fitz looked accusingly at Jemma but she just shrugged, seeming as confused as he felt. He looked across the table again. “Um…”

Bobbi glanced at him, then laughed at his expression. “Come on, Fitz, we’ve been tight for a third our lives. Just because we don’t have jets like you two doesn’t mean we’re dumb.”

Fitz’ mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out. Lance looked at Bobbi and nodded. “So, we’re agreed then. Fitz tricks Thompson into saving a spot for Jemma.”

Fitz turned to Jemma, who stared back at him with a hopeful look, tear streaks still drying on her cheeks. He sighed, trying to steel himself for all the dissections he’d have to do over the next few months.

**

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Jemma repeated over and over, kissing every surface of Fitz’ face.

Fitz still thought it was a terrible plan, but he found it hard to explain his objections when Jemma was straddled in his lap, sinking down onto him fast and rising back up slowly. His hands spanned across her bottom, helping to support her weight and squeezing occasionally. 

And he forgot his objections entirely when she stopped moving while he was deep inside her and then shifted her hips forward, grinding in small circles against him. The position put her breasts right in his face, and Fitz stared at them for a moment before moving his hands up, catching on the hem of her sweater and sliding it up until it bunched under her armpits. Fitz leaned forward, latching his mouth onto one breast, worrying his tongue against the fabric covering the nipple. Jemma groaned loudly and slid her hands to the back of his head, half-holding him in place and half-forcing him even closer. And then she moved her hands again, reaching up and behind herself to unclasp the bra. The tension in the fabric released and Fitz separated just enough to push it up as well, before connecting with the warm skin instead and sucking softly. 

Jemma whimpered, leaning unconsciously backwards as she arched her back. Leaning too far, it turned out, and both Jemma and Fitz jumped and started laughing when she accidentally set off the horn. Jemma sat straighter, reached out for his shoulders, used them to brace herself as she began to move again, and Fitz wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her close while he switched his attention to her other breast. 

Eventually, they were clinging to each other and struggling to catch their breaths as their heartbeats slowed. Jemma finally pulled off him and Fitz whined a bit at the loss. She collapsed back into the passenger seat, while he hunched over to take care of the condom.

“Thank you,” she said again.

“Thank _you_ ,” Fitz replied.

Jemma chuckled. “I mean it. Thank you.”

He turned to look at her with a smile. “Thank me when it works.”

They were both quiet for a while, and then Jemma nudged his thigh with her toe. “Have you ever done this in a bed?”

“No.” Fitz fought a smirk. “At least, not when there was someone else with me.”

“We should find a way to get some time alone with a bed,” she mused.

Fitz smiled, lifting his hips as he zipped his jeans. Then, he twisted around, clumsily moving until he was lying next to her along the front seat. Jemma reached out and caressed his face. 

“I don’t know what happened to that wholesome girl who walked into the garage a few months ago,” he observed. “Did she ever exist?”

Jemma bit her lip and lifted her eyebrows before leaning into kiss him.

**

The next day, Fitz waited next to his locker, and after the last bell, when he saw Jemma coming up to him, he sighed. He kicked off the wall and walked with her down the corridor. Jemma knocked on the doorframe when they reached their destination.

“Ah, Jemma.” Miss Weaver looked up from her desk. “And Mr. Fitz!”

“Miss Weaver,” Jemma asked in her most charming tone. “We were wondering if it was possible for Fitz to make up the labs he’s missed after school. I’d be happy to work with him.”

Miss Weaver smiled broadly. “I’m willing to arrange something. Come in.”

Jemma entered the room cheerfully. Fitz followed a little slower, wondering if this is what it felt like to face a firing squad.


	10. Chapter 10

“This one?”

“Frontalis.”

“Here?”

“Deltoid.” 

“And here?”

“Rectus abdominis.”

“What about…?”

“Jesus, Jemma.”

“No, that’s not right.”

“Your father is in the next room.”

“We’re just studying, Fitz.” 

“Pretty sure that one’s not going to be on the exam, anyway.”

Jemma chuckled throatily, but stopped as soon as her dad walked into the kitchen. She tried to appear casual, but her attempts were ruined by the way Fitz immediately jumped to the side, practically falling out of his chair in the process. She was clearly going to have to teach him how to cool it if they were going to continue to review biology at her house. 

Her father didn’t say anything, but he did look at Jemma meaningfully as he opened the refrigerator. She smiled back, as innocently as possible. Her dad just shook his head.

“Fitz, are you staying for dinner?” he asked.

“Oh! Um…”

“Or is your family expecting you home?”

“No, probably not,” Fitz answered quietly, glancing down at his hands.

Neither her dad nor Jemma answered, a bit of awkwardness descending over the room. Jemma slid her hand over and covered Fitz’, giving his fingers a little squeeze. 

“Well, then, why don’t you stay,” her dad finally said.

“Thank you, sir,” Fitz mumbled. 

Jemma smiled at her dad again as he left the room, this time more sincerely. He sent her a quick wink. Then she turned back to Fitz, who was still staring at the table. His ears were tinged pink, and Jemma leaned over to place a little peck on his cheek.

“I think my dad might actually like you,” she observed.

Fitz glanced at her and smiled quickly. Then he scooted his chair closer to hers again. “Where were we?”

“Muscular system.”

“Ah, right.” 

Jemma smiled, but then grimaced almost immediately as her lower back contracted. She sighed and reached around to rub it. The aspirin she had taken earlier were clearly wearing off.

“Sore?” Fitz asked, concerned, sliding his hand over to rub her back as well.

“Oh,” Jemma sighed, a little embarrassed. “Just – some periodic muscle pains.”

“Huh?”

“Ladies’ things,” she explained in a somewhat awkward whisper.

“Oh. Oh!” Fitz nodded in sudden understanding. Then his expression turned slightly sickly. Jemma couldn’t help but laugh, her own discomfort about the topic disappearing with her amusement at Fitz’.

“You know, Fitz,” she said softly. “You certainly enjoy things going in there; you should be able to handle the thought of things coming out.”

“Jemma!” he hissed between gritted teeth, looking nervously over at the door leading to the living room.

Jemma snickered. “I don’t think any part of this conversation would surprise my father.”

“Let’s not test that hypothesis.”

Jemma’s snicker turned into a full laugh. “I’ll make a scientist out of you, yet,” she declared.

He shook his head, but at the same time, very determinedly pulled his book closer. They worked silently for a few minutes, and then Fitz nudged her.

“I’m actually glad to hear that you’re…” he muttered, raising his eyebrows significantly.

It took her a moment. “Oh, because of – well, yes, I figured we’d be all right.”

“I don’t think we should risk it again.”

“No,” Jemma agreed. “But it was…outta sight. It always is.”

Fitz cleared his throat and looked back at his book. Jemma glanced over and smiled when she saw his ears were pink again.

**

“A little late for Christmas shopping, isn’t it? For you, at least,” Skye asked. “You usually have everyone’s presents bought and beautifully wrapped by this time.”

“Well, I have most of my presents already. I just need something for Fitz,” Jemma said, dragging her hand along the records in the bin in front of her. 

Skye was silent for a moment. “A record’s not very romantic.”

“I know,” Jemma sighed. “I just…don’t know. What to get him, I mean.”

“Well,” Peggy asked from the other side of the table. “What does he like?”

Skye snorted indelicately. Jemma glared at her, but it wasn’t enough to stop Skye from saying, “I think Jemma gives him more than enough of that every other day of the year.”

“Ugh,” Jemma turned away, leading the other two out of the store. “Be quiet, you little monster.”

“Girls,” Peggy reprimanded half-heartedly. 

Jemma was silent for a beat, then she faced Peggy again. “He likes machines. Anything he can take apart and put back together again. And he loves planes. Maybe…a model kit?”

“Hmmm,” Peggy mused. “I can do better than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have some friends coming in for Christmas. One of them’s the best civilian pilot I’ve ever known. They’ll be taking his plane here.”

Jemma stopped walking and turned to stare at Peggy. “Do you think…oh my God, he’d love that.”

Fitz did, indeed, go ape when they pulled up to Peggy’s house and saw the small plane parked on the long stretch of abandoned road nearby. She didn’t actually see him or Peggy’s friend Howard for the rest of the family party, as they spent the whole time with their heads bent over the engine and talking animatedly. Towards the end of the afternoon, he finally came up to Jemma, stepping behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. 

“He’s going to take us up; come on,” he murmured in her ear.

“What? No!”

But he was already pulling her over to the plane. Jemma tugged on his hand, using her whole weight to try to stop him, but it didn’t work. 

“No, no, please no,” Jemma begged.

Fitz stopped, turned and faced her, and then drew her into a quick, reassuring kiss. “Trust me,” he whispered.

“I’ve never been on a plane,” she countered, gripping his arms as tightly as she could. “Not since I was too little to remember, anyway.”

“And five months ago, you’d never been on a motorcycle. And only a couple months ago, you’d never…” he trailed off, raising a meaningful eyebrow. “I think you’ll enjoy this too.”

Jemma looked away, focusing on the airplane and biting her lip nervously.

“Are you coming?” Howard shouted. 

Later, Fitz told her he didn’t know which hurt more – his hand from how tightly she had gripped it or his ear from how loudly she had shrieked. 

Later still, as they were leaving, Peggy whispered in Jemma’s ear, “Wait until you’re alone to tell him this, but my friend Howard…is Howard Stark.” Jemma pulled out of the hug, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

**

Peggy leaned against the wall of her living room, enjoying the mess of wrapping paper and dirty glasses and her husband and kids playing with the new games with Anna. Jarvis stood next to her, smiling slightly, and she looked over at him.

“Quite different from the days we used to spend together, isn’t it?”

He held out his drink and she clinked his glass with her own. Howard walked up then, filling both of their glasses with more liquor.

“Well?” she asked.

Howard leaned against the wall on her other side. He took a contemplative sip of his own drink. “He’s talented, intelligent, got something to prove. With some more formal training…”

Peggy nodded, agreeing with his assessment. “ _She_ will be in town in the new year; I’m going to ask her to take a look. He could be a good fit for the team she’s developing.”

Howard raised his eyebrows in response, but didn’t say anything for a moment. “If not, I’ll steal him for myself.”

Jarvis turned towards Peggy, grabbing her attention again. “And Jemma?”

Peggy sighed. “I think she’s ready but it’s not my call. Phil wants to wait until she finishes her education before letting her in on everything.”

Jarvis hummed. “Her biology and chemistry. His engineering. Together they could be unstoppable.”

“Just think,” Howard agreed. “We might be able to pass on the reins to people almost as good as us.”

Peggy looked at him.

“Or better,” he allowed.

“Darling,” Anna interrupted, and the three of them glanced over simultaneously. “Stop talking shop and come celebrate the holidays.”

**

Jemma smiled to herself, enjoying the feel of Fitz’ arms around her. They rarely had the opportunity to cuddle together somewhere besides a car seat, but tonight was a special occasion. After the party, Skye had gone up to her room and her parents were in the den having a nightcap. That left the living room – the lamps off and the Christmas tree lights glowing in the darkness – for Jemma and Fitz.

“This was the best Christmas,” Fitz said for possibly the tenth time. 

“You seemed to get along well with Mr. Stark,” Jemma observed slyly.

Fitz’ arms stiffened. A few seconds later, Jemma twisted to look back at him. His eyes were somewhat glazed and his mouth had dropped wide open. 

“S…St…Stark?”

“Mmm,” Jemma confirmed, facing forward again and leaning back against him. “That’s what Aunt Peggy called him. The name seems familiar.”

“Familiar? Jemma!” Fitz sat up straighter, dislodging her from his embrace as he started to gesture. He was half into an explanation of Stark's identity before he noticed Jemma laughing. He huffed, and then pulled her back into a hug. Jemma could feel his heart beating wildly beneath her. “You could have mentioned,” he eventually said.

“I didn’t know!”

“I just – I’ve never had anyone – Jemma, you – I love you.”

Jemma smiled, nuzzling his neck. “I love you too.”

They were silent for a moment, and then Fitz abruptly sat up, awkwardly disrupting Jemma again. “Your present,” he muttered, lifting his hips to slide his hand into his pocket. 

Jemma laughed, a bit louder than she had intended to. She turned to face him, and they sat opposite each other on the couch, legs crossed as they bent closer. 

“I was _wondering_ ,” she joked.

He glanced up at her with a smile. “I wanted to wait until we were alone.” 

Before she could tease him further, he handed her a small box. Jemma looked at it, brow furrowing as she turned it over, strangely touched by the poor attempt at wrapping it in newspaper. And then she tore it open and lifted the lid off the box. 

“Fitz, it’s – ” she began, lifting the necklace up by the chain.

“Not much, I know,” he interrupted. “Nothing like – ”

“Beautiful,” she said over him. 

He looked up at her, eyes vulnerable, and she pressed her lips together to stop them from quivering. “I, um, I made it,” he explained. “Not – not the chain but the…the…”

“Pendant?”

“Whatever it’s called. It’s just scrap metal from the garage, but I tried to do – ” he shrugged. “ – something with it.”

“Fitz,” Jemma whispered, covering her mouth with her free hand. “I love it.”

Fitz inhaled deeply and then dropped her gaze. “I have more that I’m – I’ll have some earrings ready soon. And…”

Jemma watched him struggle, and she felt strangely nervous.

“Maybe someday,” he coughed needlessly. “After you finish college and anything else you want to do, I’ll…make you a ring.”

Jemma forgot to breathe for a moment, and then she launched herself towards him, arms wrapping around his neck as she pushed him backwards onto the couch. The kiss was fast and hard, and then Jemma buried her face in his neck, trying not to cry. 

“Jemma,” he murmured, reaching one hand up to brush her hair back from her face. 

She laughed, though she wasn’t sure what was funny, and tilted her head up to kiss him again. His hand slid down, grasping around the back of her neck and pulling her closer. They twisted slightly, until they were both on their sides, and Jemma let her hand glide down his side to his waist. Fitz’ mouth opened, and his tongue tapped against her lips. She moaned, allowing him in, feeling her toes curl as he slipped his leg between her thighs as well. 

And then the door to the den creaked as it opened, and the light over the stairs flicked on. Jemma sat up quickly, darting to the far side. Fitz moved even faster, pulling at his jeans and leaning against the arm of the couch as he crossed his legs. 

“Good night, Fitz,” Jemma’s dad called out pointedly from somewhere near the third step. “Drive home safe.”

Jemma sighed in frustration. “I don’t understand how he just _knows_ when to interrupt us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally ship Carvis, no apologies, but I doubt they’ll actually get them together so I gave Peggy a nameless, faceless husband. Also, I obviously embraced the fanon here that Fitz makes Jemma jewelry. Not sure who gets credit for that, but imagine that I’m giving credit where it’s due.


	11. Chapter 11

“Three! Two! One!” Bobbi and Jemma shouted simultaneously, but before they could cheer in the new year, they were grabbed by their respective boyfriends.

Jemma absently wondered if they were in some kind of unspoken competition to see who could kiss the most passionately. Before long, she was bent almost uncomfortably backwards, Fitz’ arms tight around her waist to keep her from falling. She clung to him, laughing just enough to prevent her from kissing him back properly.

Shortly thereafter, Fitz made a couple comments about getting her home before her extended curfew. Jemma realized his intentions pretty quickly and didn’t confusedly remind him that she had almost an hour still before her father had threatened police action. So, while the route from Bobbi’s house to Jemma’s was fairly direct, they took a detour down Magnolia.

**

Fitz may have been trying harder for Jemma’s sake and simply because he wanted to see her on a regular basis, but he was still only human, and he couldn’t possibly be expected to suffer through school every day. He’d been working hard the last several weeks since Christmas break. And now he was rewarding himself…

He and Mack were fixing a totaled ragtop when the putter of a motorcycle distracted them both. Fitz looked up in time to see a sleek black bike pull up, with a driver in leather from head to toe. She swung one leg over the bike and arched her back slightly as she stood, reaching up to let down her long, dark hair, shaking it out over her shoulders.

Mack whistled low under his breath. After a moment, he muttered, “Nice…bike.”

Upon closer inspection, she was a bit too old for him, and he was basically engaged to Jemma anyway, but Fitz objectively had to agree. “Classy chassis,” he whispered.

The woman looked over at them, and then began to walk closer. From the set of her expression, Fitz had the paranoid feeling that she had heard them or somehow knew what they had been observing to each other. 

“Tire feels like it’s wobbling,” she said curtly, not even bothering to greet them. “Take a look?”

Fitz spent about twenty minutes checking different things on the bike but couldn’t find anything wrong with it. But, for Mack’s sake, he delayed telling her that. They were standing in the corner of the garage, drinking bottles of pop and standing a little close for two people who had just met. Finally, they walked back over and Fitz shrugged apologetically.

“Seems fine to me,” he informed her. 

“Hmm. OK, thanks,” she replied. 

Fitz stood, stepping to the side as she took the handlebars from his grasp.

“Oh!” she suddenly said, setting the kickstand again and leaning over to open the saddlebag. “I found this…thing on the side of the road earlier. Any idea what it is?”

She handed it to Mack first, who turned the item in his hands over several times before making a face and shrugging. “Nah,” he replied, handing it over to Fitz to inspect.

It was strange-looking. Fitz had never seen anything like it. It certainly wasn’t an engine part, although… “The shape of it seems almost…German,” he thought out loud. “Maybe some kind of battery or power supply, although I can’t see any terminals.”

He handed it back to the woman. “Sorry.”

“No,” she replied, seeming almost pleased despite no visible shift in her expression. “You’ve been a great help. Thank you.”

After she left, Fitz turned to Mack. “You two had a lot to say to each other.”

Mack winked, and turned to walk back into the garage. “Mostly just talking shop. How long I’ve had the place, all about you and what you do here, favorite cars and motorcycles, that kind of thing.”

“You get her number?” 

Mack glanced at him again, a smirk hinting at the edges of his lips. “What do you think?”

**

“Oh, swell,” Bobbi muttered from inside the bathroom stall. “I’m early. Jem, do you have a – ”

“Yes!” Jemma replied, putting the cap on her lipstick to dig through her purse. “Give me a sec – oh, no.”

“No sweat,” Bobbi called back. “I’ll just get one from the nurse.”

“No,” Jemma whispered, feeling sick to her stomach. Then she repeated, louder, “No, I have one. That’s the problem.”

A long pause, and then clothes rustling, and then the stall door opened. Bobbi’s expression was serious and pale as they made eye contact through the mirror.

“How late are you?”

“Um,” Jemma hesitated, feeling her face flush and tears fill her eyes. She pulled the small calendar out of her purse and flipped through the pages with shaky fingers, trying to remember how to count. “Thr…three days?”

“Oh, Jesus,” Bobbi exhaled in relief, collapsing against the side of the stall. “I thought there was something to worry about.”

“Bobbi, you could set a clock to me.”

“Well, you’ve been using condoms, right?”

“Yes!” Jemma defended. “Every time! Almost.”

“What does _almost_ mean?” Bobbi demanded, relief gone as she hurried over to the sinks. “Good Lord, I’ll kill him. He knows better, even if you’re the stupidest smart person I’ve ever met.”

Jemma shook her head quickly. “One time, Bobbi. And – and I’ve had my period since then. Maybe one broke?”

Bobbi was silent for a long time, then reached her hand out and petted Jemma’s hair. “Well, it’s been three days. Let’s give it a week before we start picking out names or telling your dad to get the shotgun.”

**

It was sensible advice, and Jemma fully intended to follow it, but as much as she liked to pretend otherwise, she was a sewer even when the stakes _weren’t_ high. When she walked into the math room, she could barely manage to smile at Fitz as she made her way up the aisle to her seat. And when he caught up to her in the hallway after class and wrapped his arm around her waist, she held herself very stiffly rather than sink into his embrace like usual.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Jemma looked around, breathing in shakily and lifting a hand to her hair. There were too many people around, and so she began walking. Grabbing his hand, she led him out of the school to the parking lot and ultimately to his car. She remained silent the entire time.

“Jemma,” he finally said once they had climbed in and sat down, his voice quiet and nervous. “Normally, I’d be more than happy to sluff class with you to spend some time in my car but – you’re scaring me.”

“I’m late,” she blurted, unable to look at him. But after several moments of silence, she finally did. His expression was equal parts terrified and confused. She gestured at her stomach. “ _Late_.”

“No. Yeah, no.” He cleared his throat. “I understand. But…”

Jemma laughed, somewhat hysterically, and turned to look out the front window. “I know all the buts.”

“Are you sure?”

“No. Not yet.”

“ _Christ_ ,” Fitz whispered, bending forward to cross his arms on the steering wheel and rest his forehead against them. “We’ve been careful,” he added, his tone sounding almost accusatory in its denial. Jemma tried not to get defensive, but her temper flared when he spoke again. “I – I can’t…”

“Can’t what, Fitz? Believe it? You’re not failing biology anymore, so I know that’s not true. Have a baby? I’ll be the one having it.”

Fitz turned to face her abruptly. “We’re not ready for this,” he needlessly reminded her.

Jemma scoffed, blinking tears away. “No, we’re not. I’m supposed to be spending this summer preparing for college, not ‘visiting my aunt in another state.’”

“Jemma,” Fitz said, sincerely, urgently, as he shifted closer to her. “I’ll marry you. You know I will. You know I want to.”

“Oh, Fitz!” she nearly shouted, bending forward to hide her face in her hands as the tears finally came. “Don’t you understand? I don’t want you to make an _honest woman_ of me.” She could barely speak but she managed to spit the words out anyway. “My parents did everything they could to give me a great life, not so I’d be stuck in Nowheresville without a future.”

She sobbed then, and several minutes passed before he gave any sort of response. He patted her shoulder hesitantly, once, twice, and then pulled his hand away.

“I’m taking you home,” he said.

“I don’t want to go home,” she wailed.

“You won’t be able to concentrate on school today,” he argued. And then he didn’t say anything else, merely started the car and reversed out of the parking spot.

Neither of them spoke the entire way to the house. Jemma leaned against the cool glass of the window, stared out at the passing scenery, and tried to calm down. When they arrived, she was relieved to see that her mother wasn’t home. Fitz didn’t accompany her inside or even turn off the car and get out with her. He just stared straight ahead and swallowed several times.

“We can – we can talk more later,” he said, his voice rough.

Jemma nodded, climbed out of the car, and slammed the door. She had barely made it up the front steps, before he roared out of the driveway and laid a patch of rubber on the street as he switched gears and accelerated.

**

“Honey, are you feeling well? You haven’t eaten a bite.”

“Yes, Mom,” Jemma replied softly. She pushed her fork around her plate a bit. “Just not very hungry.”

**

The house was dark when Fitz entered, but light from the street revealed his uncle passed out in the chair in the living room. Several empty beer bottles were on the table next to him. Fitz walked past as quietly as possible, bypassing his own room and slipping into his mother’s. The lights were off, and music played softly, but she seemed to be awake.

Fitz sat down on the bed, and then leaned over until he was on his side, not quite touching her but close enough to feel her warmth. 

“Hi, Mum,” he murmured. “Bad day?” 

“Oh,” she turned around, apparently surprised that he was in there. “My darling, I didn’t hear you. I was just thinking.”

“’Bout Da?”

“Yes. Just feeling a wee bit low.”

Fitz sighed. “Me too.”

**

Jemma barely slept the entire night, and it was part in exhaustion and part in relief that she burst into sobs when she went to wash up the next morning and realized she had begun her period. She wanted to believe that would solve everything, but she had started to accept that the crisis had merely revealed some deeper cracks.

Unsurprisingly, Fitz wasn’t at school that day, and Jemma headed over to the garage as soon as the final bell rang. She could see him at the far end, bent over a car and half-blocked by the hood. The stiffness of his back, the speed and strength with which he was cranking the wrench, the music turned up a bit too loud – all of it screamed unhappiness.

“Fitz,” she began, her voice giving out on her and coming out a harsh whisper. It was loud enough, though.

He stilled, then stood up. But even then, he didn’t meet her eyes. After a few moments, he set the tool down on the nearby cart, and walked closer to her. He finally looked up, swallowing thickly before he spoke.

“Jemma.”

They stared at each other, and Jemma tried to determine what he was thinking, but his eyes were guarded in a way they hadn’t been for a long time.

“I’ve…I’ve started my period,” she said. “I’m not – there’s no baby.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled, in relief, in acceptance, and to her surprise maybe even in disappointment. He licked his lips and swallowed before opening his eyes again. The expression in them was suddenly cold.

“Good. Nothing – keeping us together then.”

“Oh!” Jemma couldn’t stop her surprised reaction. She wasn’t sure what he meant by that. “Well, no. No…I suppose not. But – ”

“Here then,” he interrupted, reaching into his right pocket and pulling out the hair scarf he’d had for months, the one that should have been hanging from his mirror. He handed it to her, and Jemma reached out with shaking hands to take it.

“Fitz,” she tried. 

He turned away, walking back to the car he had been working on. “Don’t you have a study group to lead or a prom to plan or something?”

Jemma watched him walk away, her brow furrowing in confusion and hurt and growing anger. She didn’t know why he was acting this way, didn’t know why he should be so upset now when it had ended up being nothing, didn’t know why she ever thought a boy like him would want to figure out a relationship with a girl like her, anyway.

She lifted trembling fingers to unzip the jacket she was wearing. The scarf in her hand got caught several times, but she finally opened the jacket and removed it quickly. The air was chilly; winter hadn’t quite turned into spring yet, but she barely noticed the temperature. 

She swung the jacket around, flinging it on top of the hood of a nearby car with a satisfying _thwap_. And then she turned and stomped away. She couldn’t control the hope that he would chase after her, pull her into his arms, apologize and kiss her and promise everything would be fine. 

He didn’t.

**

Fitz, hands on his hips and breathing heavily, barely hung onto his control until he knew she was gone, and then a few seconds later, he stepped forward, grabbed a tool off the table and threw it at the wall. The yell clawed at his throat until he couldn’t stop it anymore. He swiped the remaining items off the table, hearing them clatter to the ground as he collapsed onto his elbows.

“Hey!” Mack shouted, coming out of the office into the garage. “What the hell, man?”

Fitz stood up, turning away as he rubbed his hands down his face and then through his hair. He kicked the tire of the car in front of him. Mack’s hand landed on his shoulder, and he shook it off. As he walked away, Fitz reached into his left pocket, drawing out the small item that had been in there in case his conversation with Jemma went another way. He squeezed it, digging his fingernails into his palm, before tossing it in the corner with the other scrap metal where it belonged. 

He lost all strength in his legs as he hit into the wall. He spun, putting his back against it, and slid to the ground. 

“Whatever happened,” Mack ultimately said, clearly trying to calm and encourage him, “you two will work it out.”

Fitz shook his head and looked off to the side, resting his elbows on his knees. “Been telling everyone for months she deserves better than anything I could give her. She finally realized it too. I’m not going to let her throw away her life for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that, my friends, is how you use fandom tropes to lull people into a false sense of security. *mic drop*


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a not very graphic description of a biology class dissection at the end of this, if you have issues with that.

“Jemma? Jemma, where is your coat?!”

She didn’t respond to her parents’ worries, simply hurried past them and ran up the stairs. Slamming her bedroom door behind her, she threw herself onto her bed. Between the racking sobs and the lingering chill from walking home, her body was nearly convulsing. She gripped the hair scarf Fitz had returned to her as she gulped against her pillow. 

Eventually her bedroom door opened, and she forced herself to look over her shoulder, expecting Skye or her mother. But her dad walked in instead, stepping forward hesitantly as he placed a cup of steaming tea onto her bedside table.

“Daddy,” she wept. 

He sat down on the bed, his back against the headboard, and he reached down to pat her shoulder. She rolled over until her head was in his lap and she was hugging his legs. She started sobbing again, and he let her for several minutes before speaking.

“Please calm down, honey. You’ll make yourself sick.”

Jemma almost objected that she didn’t care if she got sick, but then she found she actually was starting to feel a bit steadier. He rubbed her shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. Jemma sniffled several times and then sighed.

“Want to tell me what happened?”

She opened her mouth to tell him everything, and then hesitated.

“Jemma,” her dad said. “I was never upset with you for anything you did, or for who you did it with. I was upset because I spent weeks hoping you trusted me enough to tell me what was happening in your life.”

Jemma inhaled deeply, letting the breath out sharply. “I thought I was pregnant,” she blurted.

Her dad stiffened and didn’t say anything for several seconds. “All right,” he finally replied.

“I’m not,” she continued, talking over his relieved sigh. “But – but I said some things I shouldn’t have, and we – we – he panicked, and…it’s over, Daddy. I think it’s over.”

“Now,” her dad said, his tone comforting. “You’re upset with each other, but once you talk – ”

“No,” Jemma interrupted, shaking her head. She felt tired, resigned. “It’s better this way. It got too serious too fast, and I forgot about all the things I wanted to do that didn’t involve him.”

Her dad sighed. “You know how much I would like to see you get a good education and reach all your potential. And if that meant never dating another boy until you were 50 years old, I would be more than happy with that.”

Despite herself, Jemma laughed, lifting one hand to wipe at the tears on her cheeks. 

“But honey,” he continued. “Please be sure that whatever you do, it’s because you want it and not because you think that’s what we want or what you _should_ want. All your mom and I really hope for is that you’re happy.” 

Jemma heaved a breath, feeling tears sting at her eyes again. “I still don’t know what would make me happiest,” she murmured. “But I know that – I know that I want to go to college and I’m not ready to get married or have kids. But I love him _so much_. I’m so confused.”

“Then you take all the time you need to figure it out. We’ll be here with you, and support whatever choice you make.”

And then Jemma started crying again. “You don’t hate me?” 

“What?” her dad exclaimed, bending down and tilting her face up to force eye contact. “Why would I hate you?”

“For – for – for the things I did with Fitz. You don’t think I’m…bad? You won’t send me away?”

He shook his head. “I could never hate you,” he vowed. “And I’d never send you away. It wouldn’t matter if you were a proper English lady or the most misbehaving child in the world. Nothing here’s conditional.” 

Jemma hugged him tighter, sniffling. He rubbed her shoulder again.

“They didn’t send you away because they hated you either. They loved you more than anything. And I’ll never be able to thank them enough for it.”

Jemma closed her eyes and exhaled, but finally realized she had stopped shivering and felt warm again.

**

Jemma uncharacteristically stayed home from school the following day and had trouble paying any attention the next. But by the third day, she felt a strange sort of urgency, an almost angry desire to start taking control of things again.

And while she still didn’t know what that meant for Fitz or her relationship with him, she did have one idea of something she could do. It was with that in mind that she walked up to the group of teachers standing in the corner of the hallway before the day began.

“Mr. Thompson,” she began, feeling a bit self-conscious as they all turned to look at her. She took a deep breath. “I have the top grade in senior biology. I fully expect to be valedictorian of the graduating class. I am going to college to study biology, and I _will_ see you this summer for your course.”

She didn’t wait for a response. But, later in class, as Miss Weaver walked to the front of the room, she tapped Jemma on her shoulder and gave her a little smile.

**

Fitz sat on the surface of the picnic table, his feet resting on the bench, and he bent his head down as he took the last drag from the cigarette in his hand. He dropped the butt on the ground, then looked off to the side as he slowly exhaled. It had taken several days and a full pack, but the jacket he wore was finally starting to smell like him again. At first he could barely stand to wear it, with the traces of her perfume and the little strands of hair he found in the collar and – Fitz sighed.

“Fitz,” Mack interrupted unexpectedly, climbing up to join him at the table. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” he grumbled, crossing his arms and grabbing onto his elbows.

“I’ve put up with your charming personality ever since I found you digging through that totaled car when you were a smart-mouthed kid. I think I did OK by you too.”

“Yeah, Mack,” Fitz replied sincerely, somewhat surprised and apprehensive about the topic but unable to disagree. “I don’t – I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“I haven’t asked you for much, either.”

“Oh God,” Fitz groaned, leaning back onto the table. He didn’t like where this was going.

“Finish school,” Mack continued, undeterred. “Show those wardens what they’ve been too blind to see.”

“I’m going to pass,” Fitz argued. “I’m going to graduate.”

“I don’t mean pass,” Mack countered. “I mean, really put in the effort to finish school. If not for yourself, then for me. For her. There are people who believe in you.”

“There are people who believe in aliens,” Fitz muttered.

But the next day, instead of going to the garage, he went to school. He sat in his car in the parking lot for several minutes, trying to work up the motivation or the courage to go inside. And then he leaned forward, pulled the comb out of his back pocket and twisted the mirror toward himself so he could fix his hair. 

He ignored the buzzing of gossip as he walked down the hall to the math classroom and slipped into his seat with only seconds to spare before the bell rang. He spent the entire period trying not to look at the back of Jemma’s head with little success.

**

Jemma was more than aware of Fitz’ presence, even though she made no outward acknowledgment. At lunchtime, however, she felt it was time to finally say something. The longer they waited to interact, the harder it’d be. So, she walked up to their usual table and cleared her throat awkwardly. Bobbi smiled supportively at her, and Lance looked like he wished he was anywhere else, and finally Fitz turned to face her. She didn’t know what she had been expecting from him, but the too-cool, slightly bored mask he had stopped wearing long ago wasn’t really a surprise.

“Hello Fitz,” she said, surprised at how calm her voice sounded.

“Jemma.”

“How are you?”

“…Peachy keen, kid.”

She swallowed and looked off to the side, trying to think of something else to say, wishing he would help her out a bit. But nothing came.

“Well, I promised Skye I’d eat lunch with her today so…bye,” she said, turning and walking away quickly. 

When she was several steps away, she heard a smack and an _ow! Jesus, Bobbi_ , but she didn’t look back.

**

A small, treacherous part of Jemma fought a sense of disappointed longing as she collapsed to the ground in a hug with a squealing-with-laughter ankle-biter. Tag was a very easy game to win when you were competing against chubby, stubby, unstable legs, but Jemma always let the little boy have a few minutes of freedom before she scooped him up.

She squeezed him tightly, enjoying his fresh out of a bath smell. She closed her eyes and imagined a little imp with messy curls and a bit of a temper. Then she opened her eyes and sighed, forcing herself to elaborate on the image – crying fits and diapers and resentment and sacrifice. Maybe someday the good would beat out the bad. Maybe someday the fantasy wouldn’t be mostly about having him back. Maybe someday there would be a different man that filled in the picture. Maybe someday she really would have everything she wanted. But she had other, much older dreams that she needed to chase first.

Her little prisoner struggled against her arms at the same time his sister came in, nearly tripping over her nightgown and carrying a thin book.

“J’ma, story?”

“Yep!” She replied. “Bed time.”

They were both sound asleep before she even reached the end of the book, and then she slowly, carefully crawled off the bed, cringing when one snuffled and the other flopped over. But she managed to escape and was working on a history report when the door opened. Peggy was carrying her shoes in one hand, and playfully pushing away her husband with the other. 

Jemma smiled up at them. “How was dinner?”

“Super!” Peggy replied. “How were the kids?”

“Monsters, as usual,” Jemma joked. “In bed now.”

“Ooh, that sounds like a good idea. Jemma, you’re fine walking home, aren’t you?”

Peggy rolled her eyes and pointed down the hallway. “Go check on your children before you scandalize my niece.”

He didn’t quite follow the directions, choosing instead to kiss her soundly and then wink at Jemma before leaving. When Jemma looked at Peggy again, she was laughing and shaking her head, and Jemma couldn’t help but feel a little wistful. She propped her elbow on the table and leaned on her hand with a sigh.

“Well, that was heartbreaking,” Peggy said as she flopped on the stool next to Jemma. 

Jemma shrugged. “You just…you two make a good couple.”

“We didn’t always. It took me a long time to train him,” Peggy confided, and Jemma shook her head in amusement. “And we still have our problems. It’s a lot of work, but it’s worth it.”

Jemma nodded, turning her head to look straight ahead as she thought. “Mom told me once I should choose the life that will make me happiest and make everything else worth it.”

“Your mom’s a smart lady.”

“I feel like I’ve spent this entire year trying to figure out what that might be, and I’m no closer to the answer.”

“Well, you’re 17 years old, almost 18, and about to go off to college. That’s how you’re supposed to be feeling, I think.”

“I’m still afraid I’m – I’ve – I’m going to miss out. That I won’t realize until it’s too late what I want.” 

“Let me tell you a secret,” Peggy said conspiratorially. “It’s OK to mess up. It’s OK to change your mind. Sometimes your plans change against your will, but that’s OK too, because it might open you up to new and wonderful opportunities. My life isn’t what I thought it would be when I was younger, and that meant a lot of grief and pain but in many ways it’s also so much better than I imagined.”

Jemma groaned, spreading her elbows out on the table to drop her head into her arms. “I think sometimes that I just have to get as far away as possible. Figure out who I am and what I want without anyone else around.”

Peggy hummed noncommittally, almost too suspiciously casually, and Jemma tilted her head to look at her. Peggy’s expression shifted immediately. “Of course, in the meantime…”

“In the meantime, I just feel like I’m going to burst,” Jemma said with a tiny whine.

“That I can probably help you with. It helps to get the emotion out sometimes.”

“How?”

“Come on,” Peggy said, hopping off her stool and pulling Jemma by the hand.

Jemma let out a few confused murmurs in the minutes it took them to get downstairs to the basement. Then she saw the punching bag hanging from the ceiling and was even more confused.

“Is this yours or – ?”

“Of course.” Peggy said. 

“You work in an office,” Jemma argued. “You’re a mother and a wife.”

Peggy laughed. “I’m also a war hero.”

“Over ten years ago!”

The only response she got was a raise of eyebrows and a roll of something tossed at her. Jemma caught it awkwardly. 

“Wrap that around your hands. You’ll want to protect your knuckles.”

“Peggy,” she scoffed.

“Come on, Coulson,” Peggy taunted. “You can ride a motorcycle and change a flat tire. Let’s see if you know the difference between a hook and a jab.”

**

Fitz exhaled long, slow breaths, a strange contrast to the hesitant, shallow way he was breathing in. Then his throat constricted, and he opened his mouth a few times, his tongue coming out in protest. But thankfully, he managed not to vomit.

He lifted a hand, using the back of his wrist to wipe at his brow. Then he lowered it again, lining the scalpel up on the animal in front of him. He hated Mack for asking him to do this. He hated himself for still wanting to help Jemma get into the summer course. But, most of all, he hated the smell. 

He inserted the tip of the blade into the skin, cringing a bit as it sliced down. And then he pulled away, dropping the scalpel to the table and bracing his arms against the edge.

“I can’t do this,” he muttered.

He heard a rustle of paper, and looked over at Miss Weaver who was grading papers while he made up the lab after school. She glanced up at him, and he added her tiny smile to the list of things he hated.

“Would it help if I made the first incision?” she asked.

“Um…maybe,” he allowed.

She stood and walked over to the bench he was using. She picked up the scalpel and bent over the specimen.

“Fitz,” she said hesitantly. “I feel obligated to inform you that Mr. Thompson has already agreed to let Jemma take the summer class.”

He didn’t respond right away, and she looked up at him a few moments later. He wasn’t sure what his expression revealed, but it prompted a laugh from her.

“Yes,” she said. “I knew what you two were up to. You’re not very good liars, either one of you.”

“It wasn’t – ” he cleared his throat. “It wasn’t the only reason.”

“I know. You want to graduate.”

“No. I mean, _yes_. But…” Fitz turned away, unable to look at her as he continued. “You’re a – a good teacher, Miss Weaver. You’ve always…I didn’t want to let you down.”

It was her turn to be silent for a while, and her eventual response was not at all what he expected. “You know you _could_ still earn a spot for yourself, Mr. Fitz.”

He looked at her again, with an incredulous twitch of his lips. “College is not an option.”

“Fine,” she said, handing back the scalpel. “But maybe you can find another way to succeed at the things you care about.”

Fitz sighed, bending over the lab bench again. He reached in quickly, focusing on the conversation so he didn’t have to think too much about what he was doing with his hands. “I care about cars, and I like the work. There’s nothing wrong with being a mechanic.”

“No, there isn’t,” she agreed. “All I ask is that you make sure you’re not settling because you think that’s all you can do, or because you never took a chance on something more.”

“I’m not just going to abandon Mack. I owe him everything.”

Miss Weaver stood and walked back towards her desk. “I certainly don’t know him well, but I can guarantee you that he’ll consider any debt repaid if you live up to the potential many of us see in you. Keep your options open, Mr. Fitz. Otherwise, you really will let me down.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Misogynistic attitudes and not really graphic sex-related assault and other violence in this. Consider yourself warned.

Jemma smiled widely at the group gathered around the table and the cake sitting in front of her. The others finished singing, and then her mom bent down to hug her shoulders. Jemma closed her eyes, thinking hard but unable to come up with a simple wish. Finally she just opened her eyes again and leaned forward to blow out the candles. Everyone cheered.

“Happy birthday, Jemma!” Skye said, leaning over to give her another hug. 

The party lasted several hours, and Jemma had a blast. She was starting to think she was healing, moving on. She was still bummed a lot, still missed him, still had to remind herself not to walk over to the garage when her feet absent-mindedly headed in that direction. But she was able to make it across the entire school lot without looking over at his usual parking spot. And she had finally convinced Bobbi to stop trying to help them reconcile. Each day seemed slightly easier than the one before, and she was starting to feel hopeful for the future again.

And at the end of her birthday party, she felt even more excited and optimistic. 

“One last present,” Peggy said, looking over at Jemma’s parents. When they nodded, Peggy leaned over and pulled something out of the purse sitting near her feet.

Jemma was confused but reached out for the rather large, thick envelope. And she was even more confused as she started to read its contents. Her hands shook and her eyes filled with tears and she couldn’t breathe. She looked up at Peggy, then her parents, trying to find words.

“I have a friend there,” Peggy explained. “We sent in your school records and a copy of your application essay. They were very impressed.”

“If you want to go, we’ll find a way to make it work,” her dad chimed in, and her mom nodded in agreement next to him.

Jemma looked at Skye, who was practically bursting with excitement. “Did you know about this?” she whispered.

“Just found out last night!” Skye replied. “You know I wouldn’t have been able to keep it a secret.”

“Cambridge?” Jemma asked, still in disbelief.

“What better way to figure out your future,” Peggy asked, “than to find your roots?”

**

Of course, the one person she wanted to tell was Fitz. Maybe now after they had some time and distance, now that it had become clear it wasn’t going to work between them, he could simply be happy for her. But she could never bring herself to walk up to him. She didn’t know how she would even begin that conversation.

She thought, ultimately, that the worst thing was how there was no contact at all between them. She used to tell him everything, and he told her so much in return. Yes, she missed kissing him, and the feel of his body against and inside hers, and how he’d hold her and make her feel so loved. But more than anything else, she wanted her best friend back. 

And he never even looked at her anymore. He didn’t seem to care at all.

**

“Where’s Bobbi?” Fitz asked as he sat down at the lunch table.

Hunter nodded to another table, and Fitz turned just enough to see Bobbi sitting with Jemma and Skye. He looked forward again.

“I hope you’re happy,” Hunter continued. “My girlfriend has to split her lunch breaks between her friend and making out with me, just because you won’t apologize for flipping over something as simple as a defective typewriter.”

“It’s not…” Fitz sighed and leaned forward, propping his elbow on the table and running his hand over his face. “It’s not simple at all, Lance. And it can’t be fixed by an apology.”

“Have you _tried_ , just to see?”

Fitz glanced over at Jemma again. She seemed incredibly happy about something, and Bobbi was gaping in surprise. Skye bounced in her seat, nodding as she looked back and forth between them. He wondered what it was about, and his heart hurt when he realized that, before, he would have been the first to know.

“No,” he finally answered, forcing himself to stare at his lunch tray again. “We’re – we’re done.”

Hunter scoffed. Loudly.

**

“Jemma! _Jemma!_ ”

“What?” she twisted in her desk to focus on Skye, who had just run into her room. 

“Miles asked me to prom!” Skye nearly shouted.

“ _What?_ Miles Lydon?”

“Yes,” Skye confirmed. She sat down on Jemma’s bed and fell back onto the mattress, grabbing a pillow to muffle her scream.

“I didn’t even know you two – ”

“We aren’t,” Skye replied, shaking her head as she sat up. “Or…weren’t. I just thought we were friends. Jemma, I’m the first sophomore to get asked!”

“So you’re not going to wait for Grant, then?” Jemma teased.

Skye scoffed, tilting her head at Jemma in annoyance. “No. Grant is a jerk, remember? Miles…Miles cares so much about everything. He’s a member of student council, and volunteers, and did you know, he’s taking a class on computation at the college over the summer? He promised to teach me everything he learns. And – ”

“OK, OK.” Jemma broke in, laughing. “Miles is better than Grant.”

“So much,” Skye replied, sighing. Then she immediately winced and gave Jemma an apologetic expression. “Am I being hurtful? Talking about…boys?”

Jemma closed her eyes and shook her head. “No, Skye. I’m happy for you. Just because things didn’t work out with Fitz and me doesn’t mean I never want anyone else to find someone.”

“Oh good,” Skye said in relief, before immediately talking about Miles some more. Jemma couldn’t stop her smile.

**

“Hello Jemma.”

She jumped at the sound of her name and turned away from her locker in surprise. It had been a long day of classes, and then an after-school meeting with the guidance counselor to begin preparing for Cambridge. The halls were nearly empty by that point. Nearly. She had been far too aware of Fitz, Bobbi and Lance standing at the other end of the hall to even notice Jasper approaching her. That in itself was a surprise; he had never talked to her, and barely even looked at her, since she and Fitz had begun dating.

“Jasper…hello.”

His demeanor was almost aggressively determined as he walked up to her. Jemma glanced down at him as he crowded a little too close. She had her back to her locker, or else she would have stepped away. Something didn’t feel right. 

“Prom committee meeting just finished,” he said.

“Oh, are you – are you on the committee?” she asked, trying to be polite. 

“Yes. And I thought we could go together.”

Jemma’s mouth opened and closed. She reached a hand up to her hair, but never quite touched it. “I – I don’t think so,” she finally said. 

His face got harder. “Why not? We had fun before, didn’t we?”

“Of course,” Jemma replied, a little too quickly. “I just don’t plan on going at all.”

“Don’t you think you owe me?” he said in a low voice. 

“Excuse me?”

“You made a fool of me, and now you think you can just – the whole school knows you were all show and no go with me only to be easy with someone else. Not really fair, seeing as how I was the one who paid for the tickets.”

Jemma glared at him. “Goodbye, Jasper,” she said firmly. She tried to walk past him then, and he grabbed her arm, hard. Jemma looked down at his grip in surprise. 

“Jasper, you’re – ”

“Can’t put on the innocent act anymore, though, can you? Who knows, maybe you’ll like spreading your legs for someone who isn’t covered in grease.” 

The next few moments seemed almost like they were happening to someone else. She moved automatically, swinging her arm up in one of the punches Peggy had taught her; Jasper staggered back and then bent forward while lifting both hands to his face. Jemma cried out in pain as she realized hitting bone was different than hitting a punching bag. She didn’t have too much time to react, though, because almost immediately, Jasper was straightening again, stepping closer in anger before being pulled away from her. Jemma noticed Bobbi at her side, reaching out to inspect her hand, but Jemma was far too busy screaming at Fitz to stop to really cooperate with her.

He slammed Jasper into the lockers across the hall several times, throwing some punches of his own, before they fell to the ground and started rolling around. They were grunting and swearing, legs kicking out as both tried to get the upper hand. Soon enough, Fitz was sitting on top of Jasper’s chest, one hand clutching his shirt, and the other raising back for another punch.

“Fitz!” Jemma screamed again, over the sound of feet running up. 

It took Mr. Thompson, Principal Blake, and Lance to separate them.

**

Fitz and Hunter were chatting casually, but most of Fitz’ attention was devoted to not looking over to where Jemma was standing at her locker. Because of that, it took him several seconds to realize Bobbi was staring in that direction, a concerned expression on her face. Fitz snuck a glance and then immediately regretted it.

Jasper Sitwell was talking to Jemma, standing a little too close in Fitz’ opinion. He flinched, reminded himself that he had no right to be jealous anymore, and began to turn away. It was then he realized that Jemma looked distinctly uncomfortable.

He watched a few seconds more, until Jasper grabbed Jemma by the arm and Bobbi made a small noise of alarm. Fitz was halfway down the hall before he realized he had started moving. And when Jemma actually punched Jasper, he broke into a run.

**

Jemma had just started to calm down when her father walked into the school, closely followed by Peggy. And then she started crying again. Bobbi put her arm around her shoulders, as the other two rushed up to her.

“Honey, are you hurt?” her dad asked, dropping to his knees in front of her.

Jemma shook her head, even as she held out her swollen hand. He took it and held it softly as he inspected it.

“What happened?” Peggy asked.

But Jemma couldn’t speak, and Bobbi launched into the story, or at least as much as she’d been able to figure out. Before she got very far, a clearly annoyed Lance walked over from where he’d been eavesdropping by the office door.

“Sitwell’s old man is blowing his top. Says he wants Fitz expelled. Blake seems to be listening to him.”

“But – ” Jemma choked out, half-standing to go to the office to object. 

“Well, it’s not like his mom or uncle is going to come down here and defend him, is it?” Lance asked, gesturing wildly before kicking the wall next to him. 

“He was just trying – Jasper was the one who started it,” Jemma said, her anger and fear driving away her tears. “He said,” she turned to her father. “Daddy, he said some awful things to me. He grabbed my arm. I was – ”

The door to the office opened and Jasper and his father walked out. Jemma ignored them as they walked away, craning her neck instead to see Fitz. He was slouched in the chair, arms crossed, still bleeding from his nose and looking mutinous. Jemma could see that he wasn’t going to do himself any favors. She took half a step towards the door, before her dad stopped her.

“I’m taking you to the doctor to get that hand looked at. You two,” he turned to Bobbi and Lance, “go on home now. There’s nothing else you can do here.” 

They didn’t seem particularly inclined to listen to him, but he simply tugged at Jemma’s uninjured hand. She resisted for a moment, until she noticed her father making eye contact with Peggy. They communicated silently, and then Peggy walked away, heading towards the office herself. Ultimately, Jemma was forced to follow her dad, but she kept looking over her shoulder until the office was out of sight.

**

The next morning, her hand wrapped up and still sore but unbroken, Jemma ran as fast as she could from the bus to the table where Bobbi and Lance were sitting.

“What – do you – ?”

Lance shook his head, laughing almost in disbelief as he looked to Bobbi. 

“I do not ever want to get on your aunt’s bad side,” was all she began with.

Jemma waited for a moment, and then held her hand out to demand more information. “I’ve never seen Blake so timid,” Bobbi continued with a laugh. “He did stay pretty stubborn though – Fitz is suspended for three days, but at least he wasn’t expelled.”

Jemma breathed out in relief, her shoulders dropping. But when Bobbi and Lance glanced at each other with small, amused smiles, she twisted her head and narrowed her eyes in confusion. Bobbi faced her again, clearly fighting a smirk.

“Jasper was.”

Jemma couldn’t come up with a response, and just stared at the two of them until the warning bell rang. As the rest of the student body headed towards the doors of the school, Jemma hesitated. She could go inside, sit impatiently and learn nothing during all her classes, and try to ignore the gossip following her down the halls. Or she could sluff that day and do what she really wanted – finally talk to Fitz.

“I’m gonna…” she said, trailing off as she pointed in the general direction of the garage. 

Bobbi nodded understandingly, and Lance shot her a grin, and Jemma sprinted away.

**

She hurried the whole way there and was exhausted by the time she made it to the garage. But she was also starting to feel a little uncertain. She didn’t know whether Fitz would actually want to see her or if –

All worries left her mind as she walked inside for the first time in weeks. Mack was working quietly on a car in the corner, and Fitz was sitting, his arms crossed and his feet up on the table and his head tilted back, a bag of ice sitting on his face. 

“Hello,” she said, just loud enough to be heard over the radio.

Mack turned to her, and Fitz’ feet slammed to the ground as he sat up. The ice bag fell off, and he caught it before turning to stare at her. He seemed to be paralyzed then, and Jemma felt similarly rooted to the ground. Only Mack was able to react. 

He put his tool down on the bench next to him, and walked out of the garage, squeezing Jemma’s arm supportively as he went past without a word. Jemma focused on Fitz again. He finally stood, walking slowly over to her.

Jemma inhaled deeply, struggling to find words as she lifted a trembling hand to the deep purple bruise under his eye. Fitz flinched away before she could touch it.

“He got a lucky hit in,” he observed with a small, humorless laugh.

“Fitz,” she whispered.

He looked down, effectively stopping her from saying anything else as he reached out for her wounded hand. He swallowed as he picked it up and held it softly in his own palms. He swiped his thumb over her knuckles, and then lifted their hands higher, even as he bent down to drop a quick kiss on the bandage. 

“That’s quite – quite the uppercut you have there, Jemma Coulson,” he joked. “Glad I’ve never been on the wrong end of it.”

“Fitz,” she tried again. She moved quickly, stepping closer and wrapping her free arm around him in a hug. She heard him inhale sharply and then hold his breath. “I thought…you didn’t care anymore. I thought you hated me.”

Fitz shook his head, pulling her tighter and burying his face in her neck. “I care too much,” he confessed, his voice muffled by her skin. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

Jemma took a deep breath and backed away from him. “Let’s…can we talk?”

Fitz stared at her, then nodded. He glanced around quickly, then took her uninjured hand and led her over to his car. Jemma smiled, her memories fond rather than painful for the first time in weeks, as he – like so many times before – followed her into the backseat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think show materials have Jemma’s birthday in the fall. TOO BAD.


	14. Chapter 14

Her first words, as they settled in the back of the car, turning towards each other, knees touching, still clasping hands, simply were thank you. He glanced at her and swallowed, waiting.

“For…protecting me. For being my gallant knight.” 

He laughed shortly and looked down. “I’ve just wanted to punch him ever since he asked you out.”

“Well, at least you waited until you could defend my honor at the same time,” Jemma replied with a grin.

“Was that what I was doing?”

“Mmm.”

“Well, I guess I was the one who tarnished it in the first place, so it’s only fair.”

Jemma shook her head and scooted closer, tightening her grip on Fitz’ hand. “I wish you wouldn’t… Fitz, you’re worth ten, a _hundred_ of guys like Jasper. Just because on the surface he seems – he’s a snake underneath, Fitz. And you’ve never been anything but…you’re the hero.”

“I haven’t,” he started before pausing. He looked at their hands, moving them around until their fingers threaded together. “Been very heroic lately. I should have…talked to you. I should have – ” His voice cracked and he paused again, reaching up to scratch at his eyebrow. 

“No,” Jemma said, sliding even closer to him, only half-realizing she was nearly sitting on his lap by that point. “I – I said some horrible things, Fitz. I know I hurt you, and – ”

“ _True_ things,” Fitz argued. “If you had been, if there had been…you would have lost so much, Jemma. You would have never forgiven me. I can’t make you happy, not in the long run. I’m not enough for you.”

Jemma wrapped her arms around his neck, unable to stop the sobs that shuddered through her body. “You make me so happy,” she whispered in Fitz’ ear. “There’s a part of me that would marry you tomorrow and have a dozen babies and – but, Fitz, I can’t. I _can’t_.”

“Jemma, I understand. I know,” he murmured.

She pulled away from him then. After two or three deep breaths, she finally just told him. “I’ve been accepted to Cambridge. I’m going to leave right after Mr. Thompson’s class.”

“Cambridge? _Cambridge?_ In _England?_ ”

Jemma nodded, unable to hide the excitement in her eyes or stop the smile. And her smile only widened when he whooped and pulled her into another quick, tight hug. He broke it almost immediately though, pulling back away from her as the mood inside the car changed entirely.

“Jemma, that – that’s super. You must be – I didn’t even know you applied.”

“I didn’t! Peggy did for me.” He shook his head, speechless, and Jemma continued, “You understand, don’t you? This opportunity – it’s – I can’t give it up.”

“God, Jemma. Of course not.”

“But…” she paused, took another deep breath, and swallowed. Pulling her hand out of his, she reached up and began to play with the necklace she had never taken off. “You said once, you said that maybe someday, after I finished college…”

“Let’s – let’s not make any promises,” he said, his voice hesitant and regretful. “If there’s a future for us, we’ll figure it out then. But that’s a long way off, and so many things could happen.”

Jemma sighed and nodded, trying and failing to hide her disappointment. He reached out to cup her cheek and she looked up at him again. 

“But we have a few months before I go. We can still…be friends, can’t we?”

“Friends?” he asked skeptically and with a hint of his own disappointment.

“I – I think it will be too confusing,” she admitted, “if it’s more than that. Too hard to leave. It will hurt too much.”

“OK,” he eventually agreed. “Friends.”

Jemma leaned forward, pulling him into another hug, as she told herself that friends always held each other as tightly as she clung to him.

**

“Friends?” Bobbi said, raising one eyebrow at Jemma through the bathroom mirror.

Jemma nodded.

**

“Friends?”

“Yes,” Jemma confirmed, ignoring Skye’s subsequent snort.

**

“Friends?” Mack asked.

Fitz bent over the car engine in front of him and didn’t respond.

**

“Friends?” Hunter managed to say before breaking down in laughter. He laughed so long, Fitz eventually looked at his watch with a very pointed expression. Ultimately, Hunter calmed down enough to speak.

“In the past, when you’ve told me we were friends, was that secret code for you think of me every time you flog your log?”

Fitz stood up and walked away from the lunch table. He could hear Hunter laughing again behind him.

**

The rather strange thing was, during all the time she and Fitz had been together, Jemma’s grades had never suffered. Especially after she discovered how smart he truly was and had begun to encourage him to try harder at school, it was like she had found new incentive as well. It was now, now that they were only friends, that she found him distracting, that she began to daydream during class and linger over her assignments.

They were sitting in the library during their free period. Well, Jemma’s free period. She was pretty sure Fitz was supposed to be in phys ed. But instead, he sat across from her, tapping the eraser of his pencil on the table as he stared out the window. The sun glinting through the glass made his hair appear extra shiny, and Jemma almost felt hypnotized.

It took her a moment to realize the view in front of her had changed, that she was now staring into his blue, blue eyes. She shook her head quickly, swallowed to get some moisture back into her mouth, and sat straighter, reaching one hand up to check her hair.

Fitz crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward.

“Jemma,” he whispered. 

“Hmm?”

“I was wondering,” he began. His cheeks were turning an alarming shade of red, and Jemma tried to control her nerves. “Do – do friends, ah, do friends go to prom together?”

“Oh! Well…yes, I think so.” She wondered if the color on her own face matched his.

They were both silent for a long time, and she began to feel uncertain. “Are you, um, asking _me_ to – ”

“Yes! Sorry,” Fitz’ head made a thumping sound as he dropped it onto the table, and Jemma couldn’t stop her laugh.

There was a very meaningful cough from the librarian’s desk, and Jemma cringed. Fitz looked up at her again, his eyes dancing. She reached out unthinkingly, placed one hand over his, and he turned his own over, lightly tracing one finger along her palm. Jemma tried not to shiver.

“Do you want to go to prom with me?” he whispered, adding rather belatedly, “As friends.”

“I do,” she replied before he even finished asking. “As friends, of course.”

**

“Daddy?” Jemma affected her most innocent, charming voice as she walked into the den. He glanced up from the newspaper he was reading, his expression rather suspicious. She sat on the little footstool next to him. Her voice was a bit fast and breathless as she continued. “Fitz and I have decided to go to prom together. But, it seems, he’s been working on his car again and it doesn’t actually run at the moment. Could we take yours?”

“Sorry, darling,” her dad said. “I’ve already promised it to Skye and that Miles boy. Maybe you can ride with them.”

“Oh.” Jemma’s shoulders slumped. “OK, well…”

She was half-standing when he spoke again. “Or you can take Lola.”

She whirled in surprise and stared at him, unable to speak. “Really?” she finally managed to say.

“Drive carefully,” he added.

Jemma fell forward, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug and hearing the newspaper crumple between them. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Her dad chuckled as he patted her back. “Go on and do your schoolwork now,” he finally said. Jemma stood up to leave the den, but when she reached the door he called out to her and she turned. “I’m glad to see you smile again.”

**

If anyone had interrogated him, Fitz would have vowed that he had no ulterior motives when he invited Jemma to prom. He would have sworn that he fully intended to respect her wishes and treat her only in a friendly manner. But it wasn’t his fault Mack forced him into a suit that made Jemma’s eyes widen when she saw him. It wasn’t his fault she was wearing a dress that revealed more of her soft, pale skin than he normally saw or at least had seen in a long time. It wasn’t his fault the lights in the gymnasium were dimmed or that the band played so many slow songs that required him to hold her close as they swayed. It wasn’t his fault that Jemma turned down an unexpected street after the dance. It certainly wasn’t his fault that they were parked now, her tongue down his throat and her hand down his pants.

She was half-sitting on the console between the front seats, shifting uncomfortably as she tried to find a way to maneuver around the various buttons and controls. He should really move them into the back – no, no, he should stop her. This wasn’t – she wanted – he had to say something.

“Not so tight, baby,” he mumbled against her lips, dropping one of his hands from where it was buried in her hair down to where she held him. He placed his hand over hers, adjusting her grip, modifying her speed. He moaned again, maybe pulled at her hair a little with his other hand, as she followed his cues and built on them, cupping her palm over the head before gripping his shaft again. 

That was not really what he had meant to say, but… She moved again, grunting a bit in frustration as she hit another button on the console, and then wrapped her free hand around the back of his neck. She pulled him deeper into their kiss, and Fitz felt like he was practically flying. The roaring in his ears drowned out the rumble of the car engine, and he actually felt his stomach drop; an almost weightless, unsteady feeling, like when Stark’s plane had first lifted off the ground so many months ago, rushed through him. 

She moved again, suddenly and unexpectedly twisting around to kneel on the driver’s seat. She angled her elbow to the side and slid her hand all the way down. As she broke their kiss and bent over, her hair spilled all across him, the ends tickling against the bare patches of his skin. And then – and then, she made contact with him, a quick, closed-mouth kiss to the leaking tip. He felt her tongue dart out as she licked the fluid from her lips and then her warm breath on his skin and then she sucked in just the head of his – 

“Oh no, Jem. Stop, fu – ”

But it was too late, and Fitz’ knees jerked up even as he bent his head down and his arms tightened around her in an awkward embrace, his whole body practically curling around her. She jolted in surprise, her head lifting slightly, her elbow hitting into yet another button. The flying feeling was definitely gone; Fitz squeezed his eyes shut as it felt like he crashed back to the ground, sharp shocks reverberating through his entire body while he climaxed. 

Several long moments later, he collapsed back against the headrest of the passenger seat. He panted for air, his mouth dry and shivers coursing through him. He felt Jemma moving on top of him, opening his door and leaning over. As if from a distance, he heard a spitting sound and then the door close again. 

He regained his senses just as she raised herself to her knees and began to tug at the handkerchief folded into a square and tucked into his pocket. Then, he moved quickly, knocking her hand out of the way and pulling it out himself. He opened his eyes and immediately felt guilty, and perhaps just a bit thrilled in an animalistic kind of way, at the sight of her. He tugged at her arms, pulling her across the console until she sat in his lap, back against the door and feet resting on the driver’s seat. And then he lifted the handkerchief and began to wipe the mess from around her mouth and nose. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have – I’m sorry.”

“It’s OK,” Jemma replied, laughing a bit as he removed the last of it, crumpled the handkerchief, and threw it to the floor. “I just wish I got to try it longer.”

Fitz winced and squeezed his eyes shut again, this time in embarrassment. He tried to ignore the improbably early twitch of interest at her statement and instead pulled her closer, into another kiss. Unnecessarily sneakily, he walked his fingers down her side and thigh before switching directions and smoothing his palm along her warm skin. When he made it all the way up, she flinched a bit, breaking their kiss and gasping into his mouth. He used the rough mesh of her stockings and the damp fabric of her underwear to his advantage as he rubbed her through them, varying speed and strength as she squirmed on his lap. Her breath was hot and heavy next to his ear and she gripped his shoulders, eventually crying out and shuddering against him before stilling. He stroked her softer and slower just a bit longer, and then he pulled his hand away and slid it around to cup her bottom, shifting her to a more comfortable position.

“Fitz,” she whispered after a few minutes, sounding both satisfied and full of heartbreaking longing, and he found himself hoping she didn’t say anything else.

“I have to say,” Fitz replied after an extended silence. “You’ve definitely passed Mack and Hunter for title of my best friend.”

The intimate, rather somber mood that had descended upon the car disappeared as Jemma burst into laughter. 

Ultimately, they separated and she climbed back into the driver’s seat. She straightened her dress out and twisted the rearview mirror so she could check her make-up and attempt to do something with her hair. Fitz lifted his hips, tucked his shirt back into his pants, and pulled the zipper up. Finally, Jemma was ready and she reversed out of the little nook back onto the main road. 

Neither of them spoke the entire drive back to the garage, but Fitz couldn’t stop staring at her either. Whenever she slowed down for an intersection or a turn, she’d glance over at him, send him a little smile, and then face forward again. In the dim streetlights, he could see her blush grow deeper the longer they drove.

There was, of course, no sign of life at the garage when she pulled in and parked next to his bike. He climbed out of the car and then walked to the other side, dropping into a crouch when he approached her door. They held eye contact for a dizzyingly long moment, and then Fitz forced a smile.

“See you Monday, pal,” he joked.

“Righto, buddy,” Jemma replied, her lips crooking into a smile of her own.

He stood, rapping his knuckles against the door, but before he managed to reach his full height, she darted forward and grabbed his tie. He couldn’t stop the gagging noise as she pulled him back down, but didn’t complain any further when his mouth met hers. It might have been his imagination, but she still tasted like him, and Fitz lifted his hands to frame her cheeks while he deepened the kiss.


	15. Chapter 15

The last few weeks of school passed quickly, and half the graduating class had started to act very wistful and nostalgic, while the other half had stopped putting any effort into their schoolwork. Jemma did neither of those, choosing instead to remind herself that she’d be continuing with Mr. Thompson’s course in a few weeks anyway, so it wasn’t really the end for her. That attitude helped her avoid thinking about her looming departure, the moment that would be the real end. 

She and Fitz continued to maintain they were simply friends. Friends who barely left each other’s side. Friends who spent long hours talking as they sat close on the bleachers after school every day. Friends who rode his motorcycle a little too fast down rural roads until they reached fields where they could lie side-by-side, looking up at the sky in comfortable silence. Friends who sent secret smiles to each other as they stood at their respective lockers. Friends who brushed shoulders as they passed in the halls. 

They never did more though, and while Jemma couldn’t bring herself to regret their night of weakness after prom, she knew she couldn’t let it happen again. Bobbi rolled her eyes frequently, and often reminded Jemma that she could instead be having as much sex as humanly possible in the time they had left. Jemma continued to object, trying to explain to Bobbi her reasoning, pointing out yet again how crossing that line would just make it harder to say goodbye.

“You think there’s any way it will be easier?” Bobbi asked her once. “I thought you were smart.”

**

Jemma took a deep breath as she stood, then ran a sweaty palm down the front of her graduation gown. She wished valedictorians didn’t have to make speeches. When she got to the lectern, she placed her hands on either edge and took a moment to calm herself. She looked out at the audience, finding her parents and Skye and Peggy, who all watched her proudly. She spotted Mack, who sent her a little wave. And then she sought out Fitz. He was practically drowning in the sea of fellow graduates, but she had found him earlier from her vantage point on the dais, and they had caught each other’s eye several times throughout the ceremony. He had been clearly bored through most of it, but as she prepared to speak, he sat up straighter and stared at her with intense focus. She glanced one more time at him, and he winked in response. Jemma fought a smile as she began to talk.

**

For the last decade or more of her life, Jemma’s summers were consumed with reading ahead in her books, doing the exercises to keep her mind active, and spending far too much time in the library. She had always assumed her last summer before college would be the same, perhaps with even more anxiety as she prepared for a new phase of her life. But, at least for the few weeks in between graduation and the start of Mr. Thompson’s course, she simply had fun. She ran around the yard with Peggy’s kids and then pounded on the punching bag with Peggy. She went to the lake with Bobbi, Lance and Fitz, shrieking with laughter as they splashed each other and Fitz tackled her into the water. She spent her mornings sitting too long at the breakfast table with her dad until he had to hurry to work, and her afternoons listening to her mother play the cello, and her evenings in Skye’s bedroom, lying next to each other and whispering about all sorts of things – Miles, Jemma’s upcoming move, how much they’d miss each other, and whether Skye would be able to do anything fun at all once she was the sole focus of their parents’ worry.

There was less time to enjoy herself once the class started, but Fitz gave her a ride in the mornings and then picked her up in the afternoons, bringing her back to the garage so she could work on the assignments while he fixed cars and offered himself as a sounding board as she talked through the different concepts covered in the class. And if Fitz happened to learn just as much as he would have if he had taken the class as well, neither one of them commented on it. 

The last week of the class was also the week of the 4th of July. Rather than their usual barbecue, Jemma’s family was dispersed. Her parents and Peggy went on an unplanned trip to the other side of the country for the funeral of an old friend that Jemma had never met or even heard of before. Skye, Miles and several of their friends planned to attend a party. In a way, Jemma was happy that they wouldn’t be able to spend the holiday together as a family. As soon as her parents returned, her life would be filled with the chaos of trip preparations and goodbyes. That night would be the last time she’d really be able to spend with just Fitz. 

The thought made her sick.

They were on top of the hood of his car, leaning against the windshield to watch the fireworks, one blanket under them and another over them, hiding the fact that they were holding hands. Jemma tilted her head to rest it on his shoulder and sighed. She felt his head turn as he looked at her, but he didn’t say anything.

“Maybe I should just stay here,” she murmured, finally putting voice to something she had been considering for days.

Fitz sat up, dislodging the blanket and letting go of her hand as he turned to look at her in disbelief.

“You’ve gone kooky,” he informed her. 

“No,” she disagreed, sitting up herself. “It’s crazy to go. Who moves to another country? Another _continent_? There are perfectly good universities here, where I’d be near my family, my friends, y – you.”

Fitz leaned forward, placed both hands on her cheeks and held her steady as he looked her in the eyes. “You have to go,” he ordered. “You _have_ to go.”

“But Fitz – ”

“You’re going to go over there and you’re going to see where you’re from, and you’re going to learn everything they can possibly teach you which can’t be much because I’m sure you’re smarter than all the professors anyway, and you’re going to have tea with the Queen or whatever proper English ladies do, and you’re going to da – date all the proper English lords, and you’re going to see the world, and if you keep talking like this, I’m going to carry you onto the plane and drop you into the seat myself, do you hear me?” 

Jemma was half-laughing and half-crying by the time he finished, and he pulled her into a hug. She clung to him as she tried to calm down. 

“Bobbi was right,” she eventually said.

“Hmm?”

“This can’t be any easier than if...”

Fitz pulled out of the hug. “Than if what?”

Jemma swallowed and shook her head. “I don’t want to watch any more fireworks,” she said. “Will you take me home?”

Fitz watched her for a moment, then nodded in agreement. When they got to her dark, empty house, Jemma led him inside. He opened his mouth and inhaled, clearly about to finally break the silence that had fallen between them, when she turned on the light and spotted a note on the table. She stepped forward to pick it up and read it silently.

_My graduation gift to you: I’m sleeping at Colleen’s tonight, but will tell Mom and Dad I was home by 10 and we watched some TV until we went to bed. I’ve been practicing to make it sound believable. Make the most of it. See you in the morning! Love, Skye_

“Fitz,” Jemma whispered. 

“What is it?”

Jemma breathed deeply and realized her hand was shaking, the paper fluttering back and forth. 

“Is everything OK?”

Jemma nodded. “Drive back to Mack’s and switch your car for the motorcycle,” she instructed. “There should be enough room in the garage next to Lola so no one sees it here. Come back as soon as possible.”

“Jemma?” he seemed very confused, and she handed him the note. She watched, strangely amused as he turned pale and then very red. He looked up at her, his eyes vulnerable and hopeful. “Are you – ?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Go, Fitz. Hurry.”

She didn’t have to tell him again, and she was only halfway up the stairs by the time she heard his car back out of the drive. She moved quickly, grabbing the stuffed animals off her bed and forcing them into the mostly empty closet. She pushed the half-packed suitcases to the corner of the room, and then dug through one of them until she could find the laciest, thinnest, least childish nightgown she owned. She changed clothes as fast as possible and then ran to her mirror so she could fix her hair. And then she gripped the dresser for a moment and tried to calm her frantic breathing. 

She didn’t know why she was nervous. But she didn’t have time to think about it. Far earlier than she expected, she heard the rattle of the garage door being pulled open and the rumble of Fitz’ bike as he parked it. She looked over at her clock and tried to calculate exactly how fast he must have driven. And then the garage door was closed, and moments later, she heard the house door open.

“Jemma?” he called out.

“Up – ” her voice croaked at first, and she cleared her throat. “Upstairs.”

He took the steps at least two or three at a time, and before Jemma knew it, he was at the door to her bedroom. He crossed the room quickly and pulled her into his arms. Jemma was breathless before their mouths even connected, and by the time the kiss finally ended, she was heaving for air. 

“Fitz,” she panted. “I want to make love to you.”

He groaned and buried his face in her neck. She could feel his lips and tongue and teeth along her throat, and she tilted her head back, her eyes closing. “I want to fall asleep together,” she continued, her voice cracking with pleasure and emotion. “And wake up in your arms, and have everything we could have had in a different life.”

He nodded, and Jemma slid her hands up into his hair. And then she stopped moving entirely. 

“Fitz,” she said, her voice firmer. 

“What?” he asked, muffled against her skin, one hand dropping to her waist and crumpling the fabric of the nightgown beneath his palm.

“Will you take a shower?”

It was his turn to freeze. Moments later, he pulled back from her, a look of utter confusion on his face. “What?”

Jemma laughed quickly, rolling her eyes at herself a little. “Will you wash all this out? I just – curls,” she tried to explain.

Fitz’ mouth opened and closed as he struggled for an answer. Eventually he simply said, “Actually a cold shower might be a good idea at this point. Make this last a little longer.”

Jemma burst into laughter, and Fitz shook his head. He started to respond, but stopped when Jemma pushed at his chest. “Two doors down on the left,” she directed. “Towels on the shelf. _Hurry_.”

Fitz left the room without another word, turning instead towards the stairs and mumbling something about dish soap, and Jemma collapsed back onto the bed. She lifted her hands to her face and attempted to stifle the laugh-scream that escaped her lungs.

**

Fitz dried his hair as best he could, but little droplets still fell off whenever he moved his head. He very much enjoyed the goosebumps that rose on her skin whenever one hit her and the low, long groans she made when he chased them with his lips. He sucked one breast into his mouth, and she stroked her fingers through his hair, giving him goosebumps of his own. Sliding down a bit more, he ran his tongue along the skin between her breasts, grinning as her legs wrapped tighter around his torso. There was dampness on his own chest from where she rubbed against him, and Fitz reached a hand down, sliding it along her leg and sneaking it under her so he could pull her up to him again. He lifted his head and tilted it down for a long moment, only broken from his admiration when she scratched at his scalp.

He looked up at her then, grinning wildly. “I’ve never seen you with your clothes off. Not all of them at the same time, anyway.”

She chuckled, her head dropping back onto her pillow. “Likewise.”

“Disappointed?” Fitz asked, the teasing in his voice aiming to hide the tiny insecurity.

“Not at all.”

“Yeah, good. Me neither,” Fitz responded before immediately dropping his mouth back onto her skin. 

He kissed his way down her body, his movement becoming more difficult as she continued to grip him with her legs and rock up against him increasingly faster, but he eventually managed to reach her navel. He stopped then, dipping his tongue into the hole and trying to work up the courage to go farther. He had never done that to a girl, and had always wanted to do it with Jemma. He reminded himself of Bobbi’s long-ago words that Jemma wouldn’t know if he wasn’t good at it, but he also didn’t want their last night together to have any awkwardness or frustration. 

Fitz took a deep breath and then began to shift his way farther down. Before he reached his destination though, Jemma’s fingers buried deeper into his hair and then she pulled at the curls almost painfully. Fitz glanced up, taking in the sight of her flushed skin and her head tilted back, her mouth wide open and her hair spread out over her pillow. 

“Fitz, please, now,” she begged.

He looked down with one regretful glance, and then launched himself back up towards her. He reached out to grab the condom he had placed on the bedside table earlier and then he quickly rolled it on, ignoring Jemma’s pleasantly dangerous attempts to help. He kissed her again, thoroughly, deeply, and then lowered his weight onto her. Jemma sighed as he entered her, and her eyes rolled up beneath the fluttering lids, and he was pretty sure he’d choose this one moment over his very own plane with no regrets. 

“Jemma,” he murmured, lifting one hand to stroke her cheek.

She opened her eyes and stared back at him. They moved slowly, slower than they ever had before, and held each other’s gaze the whole time. Fitz eventually dropped his hand again, reaching below to tangle with her own fingers as they rubbed at her. Soon, Jemma was biting her lip and moaning, and she was having difficulty keeping her eyes open. Fitz knew she was close, so he bent down to kiss her again, rubbed faster, tighter circles against her, thrust a little deeper. 

Jemma gasped, breaking the kiss as her eyes opened wide. She reached her free hand up to clasp to the back of his neck.

“Fitz,” she whispered. “Fitz, say it please. Even if you don’t mean it anymore. Just say it one last time.”

It took his brain a moment to figure out what she was asking, and then he bent down to kiss her again. “I love you, Jemma,” he said, as sincerely as possible. “I love you so much, and I’ve never meant anything more.”

He accompanied the declaration with another deep thrust, the momentum forcing his fingers to slide against her sharply, and she yelled out. She tightened around him as she came, and Fitz followed her seconds later.

He collapsed onto her, his arms giving out. She grunted a bit at the impact, but neither of them moved for quite some time. It was only when his own breath slowed that he realized hers had become shaky and wet. He pushed himself up again and immediately reached out his hands to wipe away the tears on her cheeks.

“Don’t cry, baby. Please don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it,” Jemma wept, as she wrapped her arms around him, pulled him into a hug, and began to sob.

**

In the morning, they sat at the kitchen table sharing breakfast. Well, Fitz sat at the table, and Jemma sat on his lap, and neither of them ate all that much. Fitz ran his fingers through her hair over and over as they talked. He made her promise that they’d have a clean break, that she’d have fun and learn and love and move on if she needed to. She made him promise that he’d do the same and not run away from experiences and opportunities or go back to acting like he didn’t care about anything. And in between all the vows, they kissed and kissed and kissed.

The front door opened eventually though, and they both held still in terror until Skye called out to confirm it was just her. She leaned in through the doorway to say good morning.

“Fitz, what a surprise to see you here,” she said, completely deadpan, before leaving again to go up to her room. 

Fitz left shortly after that, with a promise to see her at the airport in a couple days. Jemma sighed as she watched him drive away, and then she went back to her room to finish packing.

**

The goodbyes at the airport were filled with more tears, and Jemma was beginning to wonder if she’d ever stop crying. Peggy waited near the hall that would take them to the plane, watching as she hugged her parents and Skye goodbye. Jemma stepped over to Fitz then, shaking slightly as he pulled her into his own embrace. They whispered quietly, reminding each other of the promises they had made.

“I love you, Fitz,” Jemma finally murmured. “You’re my best friend in the whole world.”

He pulled out of the hug and chucked her under her chin. “You’re more than that,” he said with a quick wink.

She couldn’t linger anymore, though, and with one last wave, she met Peggy by the hallway. They turned and walked side-by-side towards the plane, and Peggy reached out to put an arm around her shoulders.

“Thank you for coming with me,” Jemma said for possibly the twentieth time.

Peggy shrugged. “I wanted to see home, and there are some people I need to meet with for work anyway. Besides – I brought you over here. It only makes sense that I should bring you back.”

**

The Coulsons and Skye stood by the window long enough to watch the plane took off. Thankfully, it gave Fitz plenty of time to brace himself against the window ledge several feet away and try to control himself. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before a hand clapped onto his shoulder. He kept his head bent as he sniffed and quickly ran his elbow across his eyes. Then he turned away from the window but in the opposite direction from Coulson. He reached into his back pocket for his comb as he turned.

“Yeah?” he said, pretending to be concentrating on styling his hair.

“Come on over to the house in about 20 minutes,” Coulson said, in a firm tone with just a hint of underlying sympathy. “Audrey and Skye are going to run a few errands, and I would like to talk to you about something.”

Fitz looked up in confusion, but Coulson was already walking away, waving his arms to guide Mrs. Coulson and Skye out of the lobby. He stood rooted to the ground for a few minutes, sent one look over his shoulder out the window again, and then left.

He was glad that he had decided to take his motorcycle to the airport rather than squeeze in with the others. It gave him the opportunity to drive back a little too fast and let the whipping wind provide an excuse for his red face and wet eyes. When he arrived at the Coulson house, their tank was gone but he parked on the side of the road anyway. The driveway was blocked by a souped up car that made Fitz’ mouth water and a rather familiar black motorcycle. 

Fitz knocked on the front door and entered after he heard Coulson call out in response.

“In the kitchen, Fitz,” Coulson shouted as he closed the door behind him.

Fitz walked into the room, feeling rather nervous, and then immediately feeling stunned when he saw Howard Stark sitting at the table. And next to him sat the beautiful Chinese woman that had given Mack what turned out to be an incorrect number and was never seen again. Until now.

“Fitz,” Coulson said, as he sat down at the table and slid a glass of water in front of the empty, waiting seat. “We’d like to talk to you about something called S.H.I.E.L.D.”


	16. Chapter 16

It took Jemma some time to fully embrace her new life, despite her promises to Fitz. Much of the first few months, especially after she was settled and Peggy left, was laced with homesickness and loneliness and heartbreak. But the rest of her time was spent studying and learning and exploring her new-old home. She went to shows and walked along the river. She visited libraries and ate in pubs. She made friends with her classmates and neighbors, developed relationships with her mentors and professors. 

The bite of winter was already in the air by the time Jemma worked up the strength to go to London and visit one particular neighborhood. She kissed her fingers and held them to the wall of a new and modern building that showed no sign of the devastation that had ruined its predecessor. And then she crossed the street, sat on a bench next to the memorial that had been built for the many people that had been lost there, and cried.

The next trip of grief and gratitude was easier, though she didn’t take it until a school holiday the following spring. The train station was only a few miles from the cemetery, and it was warm enough to walk to it. She had done the necessary research, and counted the rows until she found the right one. Halfway down the row, she stopped, double-checked the inscription and crouched. She placed the flowers she had brought on the grave and smiled a wobbly sort of grin.

“You would be so proud,” she said. “So proud.”

The second half of the trip took her farther north, and she felt rather exhausted by the time she arrived. But after a brief rest, she went back out and explored the city. She knew it had likely changed in the many years since he had lived there, and that he probably remembered little of it anyway. But she couldn’t help but smile as she imagined him there.

She continued her studies over the summer, planning to graduate early if possible, and by the time the next school year began, it seemed as if she’d been there for years. Jemma truly felt happy and optimistic, unable to breathe sometimes when she stopped to think about the world opening up to her. She lost herself in political debates and volunteering for various social programs and causes, only to find herself again in the science that continued to fascinate her more and more.

She went through reams of paper corresponding with her parents, Peggy, Skye and Bobbi. Bobbi, of course, remained an understanding friend, dropping little hints that sometimes helped and sometimes hurt, and ultimately made the break a little less clean, a little less complete than maybe it should have been, but also made it easier to bear. Fitz apparently was depressed for months, and he’d disappear for days at a time. But eventually, he too came out of it stronger; Bobbi even mentioned classes at the J.C. or somewhere that Fitz refused to offer details on. Much later, she also mentioned rumors of a gorgeous, older woman that Fitz was frequently seen with, though she claimed to have never met her and that Fitz denied everything when asked. And sometime after that, Bobbi wrote that she had finally given into the whining and agreed to make an honest man out of Lance. Over the next year or so, as their lives continued to diverge, the letters became less and less frequent, the mentions of Fitz even rarer, and eventually the connection was lost. 

Of course, her social life in England began to make up for the relationships she missed back home. She developed close friendships with several of the girls in her year and some of the boys too. And she finally opened herself up to other things, to dates and kissing and dancing and staying up all night, sometimes just talking and sometimes connecting in other ways. In the years that she was in school there, she dated several boys, became serious and intimate with a few, and even briefly talked marriage with one before both of them admitted something was lacking. She never admitted to herself what that something was, though.

Her parents and Skye were only able to visit once as a family, although Skye came by herself as a high school graduation gift. It was Jemma’s second summer there, and they took the holiday to travel across half of Europe together. The third summer, after Jemma graduated with honors, she traveled with a girlfriend across the other half. And then she decided to stay another couple years and get a second degree while she was at it. 

Ultimately, she felt like a completely changed person, and like something resembling an adult, as she walked down the hall connecting the airplane to the lobby. But then she felt like a kid again as soon as she stepped through the door. She ran as fast as she could, shouting and nearly crying in joy, pushing her way past people until she reached her waiting family. She jumped into her dad’s arms, nearly knocking him over as she hugged him tight. Her mom and Skye hugged them both, and she imagined they all looked a bit crazy as they laughed through happy tears.

“Come on,” her dad finally said, breaking out of the hug and reaching for her bag. “We should get your luggage and go home. Peggy and her clan are coming for dinner tonight.”

As they walked out of the lobby, Skye grabbed onto Jemma’s arm. “I’m so glad you’re home,” she enthused.

Jemma looked around with a smile. “Me too,” she agreed.

**

“So…now what?” Peggy asked at dinner.

Jemma groaned. She had been asked that question by so many people and had no good answer. Finally she shrugged. “Maybe I’ll look into laboratory jobs. Or teach. Or go for my doctorate.”

At that, it was her dad’s turn to groan, and everyone laughed.

“I really,” Jemma began, then paused as she tried to figure out how to say it. “I want to do something meaningful. Something important. I have real talent, if it’s not arrogant to say, real knowledge, and I think I have something to offer. And being over there, seeing all those cities and ruins and civilizations that have been around so much longer than this country was even known, to us at least, just really has me thinking about – about legacies and the future and how best to serve or, I don’t know, protect the _whole_ world.”

She stopped and looked around. Her parents and Peggy were looking at each other and it made Jemma feel self-conscious. She lifted a hand, tucked a piece of hair behind her ears, and shrugged. “I don’t know. That sounds naïve, I guess. I’ll probably teach or work in a lab.”

“Well,” her dad finally said. “Just take some time to relax and feel at home again. I’m sure something will come along.”

**

It took her four days of second-guessing and working up the courage before she borrowed the car and drove herself down the familiar roads to the garage. She parked out front, and she smiled to herself when she saw there was no one in the office, as usual. She took a couple deep breaths before climbing out of the car and then she walked around to the back, feeling her heart rate speed up.

She felt a sense of déjà vu as she got closer – the radio playing, the clank of tools, the smell of oil and gas. She didn’t see Fitz’ car or motorcycle, or at least not the ones he’d had five years ago, and she couldn’t actually see him either, but there was someone working in the back, hidden from her view by the hood of a car.

“Hello,” she called out. 

“Just a moment,” came the response and she was only somewhat disappointed when she recognized Mack’s voice.

Her smile was entirely and sincerely happy, though, when he leaned around the car to look at her. She couldn’t help but laugh when it took him several moments and a double take, and then he was hurrying over to her, wiping his hands clean before pulling her into a hug.

“Well, I’ll be,” he exclaimed. “Jemma Coulson. Don’t you look as beautiful as ever.”

“Hello, Mack,” she responded, closing her eyes briefly as she squeezed him tight. “It’s so good to see you.”

He let her go, and she looked around. “This place is exactly the same,” she observed.

Mack shrugged. “Not exactly.” She glanced up at him skeptically. “New sign,” he pointed out, and Jemma laughed. 

“Come on in,” he said then, guiding her to the table in the back. “You want a Coca-Cola?”

“Oh, no, thanks. I can’t stay long,” she said even as she sat down. They talked for several minutes, with Jemma answering the now-expected questions of how much she’d enjoyed England and what she planned to do next. Eventually, she couldn’t wait any longer and she cleared her throat. “Um…Mack?”

He looked at her, his expression clearly indicating he knew what she was asking. Then he looked down at where his hands were clasped on the table. “He isn’t here. Hasn’t worked here for years.”

Jemma struggled to respond and eventually managed a simple, “What?”

Mack shrugged. “Had an apprenticeship or something – he never really shared all the details, no matter how much I asked. And then he got offered some fancy, top-secret job. I only know that because a couple feds came to ask me all sorts of questions to get him a security clearance. I don’t even know how to contact him; he travels a lot, from what I can tell. Sends me postcards all the time, but I haven’t actually seen him in…a year, maybe.” 

She fell back in her chair in surprise. “Wow,” she finally said.

She left shortly after that, driving around for a while trying to wrap her head around the news. She was mostly thrilled to hear he had apparently found something worthy of his skill and intellect, something that he must enjoy doing. But a part of her was disappointed – and she subsequently felt more than a little selfish and guilty at the thought – that he wasn’t there waiting for her.

**

A few days later, Jemma was sitting in the living room and reading the newspaper when there was a knock at the front door. She hesitated briefly; only she and her dad were home at the moment, but he was back in the den. And then she tossed the paper aside and pulled herself to her feet.

“Oh, Peggy!” she exclaimed as soon as she opened the door. “What are you doing here? Come in!”

Peggy smiled her greeting and then turned to gesture for the person with her to enter first. The woman was beautiful, close in age to her parents, Chinese, and dressed in a way that made Jemma blush a bit. She stepped back and allowed the other two to enter.

“Should I get Dad?”

“No,” Peggy replied. “Well, yes, he wants to be a part of this, but we’re here to talk to you.”

“Me?!”

Jemma looked at them both in surprise, and then turned at a noise to see her father enter the room. 

“Come on and sit down, Jemma,” her dad said. “We want to talk to you about a job opportunity.”

She felt a little self-conscious, but hurried her way over to the couch. Her dad sat next to her and reached out for her hand. 

“Honey,” he began. “I don’t work for the city.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I know it probably just seemed normal to you, but I hope you realize or understand now that no city employee goes on quite so many trips around the country as I did while you were growing up.” 

“But…”

“Peggy, Howard Stark, Melinda May here and I all work for a secret organization known as S.H.I.E.LD. It was established shortly after the war, in response to events like Captain America and the Tesseract. Its mission is…well, simply, protection. ”

As he continued to talk, Jemma couldn’t do much more than blink. Eventually, he stopped and she stared at him, still not quite comprehending. The others were silent as Jemma processed his statements. She still felt very confused when the strange woman – Melinda May, apparently – leaned forward.

“Jemma,” she said. “I’m putting together a small, highly elite team. I’ve been planning it for years, and it’s finally time to get to work. We’ll be a mobile command unit that travels around the country, around the world even, responding to crisis events, investigating strange occurrences, studying discovered objects, anything that might arise. I need someone on the team with a science background – biology, chemistry – someone who has intelligence and creativity but also bravery and ambition and a taste for adventure.”

Jemma gaped at her, then looked to Peggy and her father. Both of them were smiling and nodding. “I – I – don’t know what to say.” She shook her head quickly, then. “Yes!”

**

Skye had cried for days when Jemma told her she was leaving again, and asked why she couldn’t find a teaching job in their town. Jemma felt horrible for lying to her, but her parents explained the importance of secrecy and promised that Skye would learn about everything herself when the time was right. Jemma packed up her suitcase and set out for the address May had given her. It was a large, nondescript building in the middle of nowhere about two hours out of the city. It looked like a warehouse, but Jemma realized when she entered that it was actually a hangar. It housed the largest, sleekest, most advanced airplane she’d ever seen.

“Groovy,” she muttered to herself.

“Boss, isn’t it?” Jemma jumped in surprise and then turned to face the two people behind her. 

“Hi,” the man said, holding a hand out for Jemma to shake. “You must be the scientist. I’m Mike – I’m a specialist, which mostly means I will have to beat up anyone who gets unruly.”

Jemma laughed, introducing herself and taking a moment to appreciate the muscles in his arms and chest. He certainly would be the right choice for such a job. And then he indicated the woman next to him. “This is Akela,” he added. “Communications.”

Akela nodded at her without a word, and Jemma tried not to giggle at the irony. 

“Is that it, then? Just the four of us? May said it was a small team, but that seems…”

Mike shook his head, cutting her off. “One more, but we haven’t met him yet. He’s second in command, I guess, been a part of the whole planning process from almost the beginning. Tech and engineering.”

“He built this plane,” Akela finally spoke up. “Not personally. He designed it, I mean.”

“It’s unbelievable,” Jemma observed, looking at the aircraft again. 

“I imagine you’re going to be wishing it’s even bigger soon enough,” Mike said, a teasing tone to his voice.

“What?” Jemma felt confused, looking at him again. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “You two will have to share a lab, from what I hear.”

Jemma tried not to sigh. She’d known too many engineers not to realize some of the clashes that arrangement could cause. Before she could worry too much, Akela spoke again.

“We’ll all feel packed in like sardines, I’m sure. Hope you don’t have any secrets you want to keep!”

Jemma smiled, somewhat nervous at the implication. But their conversation abruptly ended when a motorcycle roared up. Jemma watched as May climbed off the bike and a technician took it from her to steer it into a nearby storage compartment. 

“Good, you’re all here,” she observed, walking over. “I’ll give you a quick tour of the plane, and then you should get settled. Wheels up as soon as our last man arrives.”

**

Jemma was conducting an inventory of the supplies to make sure the lab had been stocked to her specifications. Unsurprisingly, based on what she had learned about S.H.I.E.L.D. in the last few weeks, it had been and then some. She practically went into raptures at the sight of some of the equipment bolted to the lab benches. She was inspecting one at the moment, bent backwards as she looked at it from all angles.

There was a bit of commotion as someone entered the room, but Jemma was far too distracted to look up. Which meant that when he started talking and she recognized the voice, she jumped and smacked her head on the edge of the counter. She rubbed at it, even as she stared in surprise.

He was a bit skinnier than she remembered, and dressed in a plaid shirt with a mismatched tie that his high school self would have probably pounded him for. And his hair – curls a little too long and flying wild with no trace of the grease he used to slather on it… Jemma smiled at the familiar way he practically ran around the room when he was caught up in whatever he was doing, long, almost delicate fingers working quickly and his brain working even faster. 

He hadn’t noticed her yet; he was too busy moving some things around and unpacking yet more equipment that would have to be squeezed into the lab somehow. “You must be May’s secret weapon,” he was saying. “Welcome to the team. We’ll be sharing, unfortunately, but – ”

“Fitz,” she finally managed to say, her voice just above a whisper.

He dropped whatever he had been unpacking, and Jemma cringed at the sound of something that was probably fairly expensive breaking into pieces. He whipped around and stared at her, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

“Jemma!”


	17. Chapter 17

They stared at each other for at least a full minute, and then they moved at the same time. Jemma couldn’t stop the laugh bubbling up in her chest as he hugged her, and she couldn’t even begin to find words. Fitz, meanwhile, repeated _oh my God_ over and over again, just under his breath. She could feel his heart pounding as they pressed against each other. She wasn’t sure how long they held each other, but eventually he pulled away, placed his hands on her shoulders, and held her at arm’s length. He looked at her, an overwhelmed expression still on his face, as his eyes dropped from hers down her body, up to her face again, and then towards the ceiling with a deep inhalation.

“What are you doing here?”

Jemma laughed, reaching both hands up to grasp his wrists, afraid he’d let her go. “I’m – I moved back about a month ago and May came to see me a week or so later. Offered me the job. I had no idea! What are _you_ doing here?”

He struggled for a response. “That’s – that’s a long story.”

“I can imagine!”

At that moment, May’s voice interrupted, announcing their impending takeoff. They both turned to look at the speaker as she requested everyone to secure themselves and for Fitz to join her in the cockpit. He faced Jemma again, looking apologetic. 

“I have to – ”

“Yes, of course. “We can talk later.”

He nodded, but still took several more moments to stare at her. Finally, he moved, his arm trailing behind as he kept hold of her for as long as possible. And when he made it to the lab door, he stopped and turned to look at her again. Jemma smiled even as she shooed him away.

“I just – Jemma Coulson,” he murmured, shaking his head and hurrying out of the room. 

After he left, she remained immobile, still laughing to herself rather incredulously and trying to convince herself it was true, she had really just seen Fitz again after all these years. And for all he had changed, there was still – he was still – deep down, she could just tell he was the same Fitz, even from just a few minutes of interaction. He’d made something amazing of himself, just like she always knew he could, and they had a chance to be partners in a way they never could have dreamed.

**

May glanced up at Fitz as he entered the cockpit and sat in the co-pilot’s seat. Normally, only one person could handle the takeoff, but since it was their first _real_ flight after so much testing, it only seemed right that Fitz be there. Plus she wanted to tease him a bit.

“Getting settled in the lab?” she asked casually.

He turned to look at her, the suspicion and annoyance on his face barely masking the extreme happiness. 

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Did what?”

“It only occurs to me now what extreme lengths you went to in avoiding ever mentioning the name of the biologist you hired.”

“Biochemist. Technically. She’s highly qualified for the position; I’m happy she accepted it.”

Fitz shook his head and looked forward. He began to press buttons and flip switches in preparation for takeoff. May watched him for a few more moments, struggling to maintain her typical blank expression in case he looked back at her.

**

Over the next few weeks, Jemma and Fitz spent many hours talking to each other, learning about everything that had happened in the years since they’d seen each other, everything about their lives now. She came to realize that he really was still the same Fitz in many important ways, but also that he had so much more confidence and less anger now. Having a sense of purpose and receiving recognition and support had changed him, and she was just proud to know that she had played a small role in that.

Whenever she saw him fix something on the plane or explain to the others what they were investigating or strategize the team’s next mission, she couldn’t help but feel attracted to him all over again. The boy on the motorcycle had been a long-time fantasy of hers, but the man in front of her…

And there were so many times that he seemed to be flirting with her. When he’d ask to see what she was looking at in her microscope and then lean over her to do so. When he stared at her a little too long. When he brushed against her in the lab or while walking down the narrow halls of the plane. When he’d start to say something and then cut himself off and Jemma wondered…

But whenever her thoughts drifted in that direction, she’d shake her head and remind herself she was a professional. An adult woman there to do an important job. Besides, even though they talked so much and fell back into an easy, seemingly choreographed style of working together Jemma remembered from long-ago afternoons in Mack’s garage, they never talked about those afternoons. Or about anything that had been between them five years ago. She didn’t know if he was waiting for her to say something about it, or if he was trying to be professional about their relationship just like she was. Or perhaps he didn’t think there was anything that needed to be said. Perhaps it really was just in the past for him.

**

“Would you do me a favor?”

“Sure, May, what do you need?”

“Kiss her already.”

Fitz fumbled, dropping the small device in his hand. It bounced across the lab table and he reached to stop it, catching it just before it went over the edge. After an entire afternoon wishing Jemma was in there with him instead of working on a project with Akela, he was suddenly glad he was alone. 

“May! I – what?”

May rolled her eyes. “That whole first year we worked together, I had to put up with a heartbroken teenager. Please, please don’t make me suffer through this too.”

Fitz focused intently on the device, pretending he was working instead of listening to the absolutely insane things May was saying. “She… That was a long time ago, May. She’s moved on. She’s never even mentioned…all that. And besides, this is a small team and we can’t afford – ”

“We can’t afford someone getting killed because two members of our team are distracted by pining after each other.”

Fitz sighed and scratched at his eyebrow.

“How did you two knuckleheads ever start dating in the first place?” 

“Um…mostly she took the lead on everything.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” May replied, far too entertained. After a moment, she added, “I could make it an order.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I could accidentally give Mack your real number.”

May looked back at him coolly, and Fitz fought a grin. She had tried to convince him more than once that her flirtation with Mack had simply been a ruse to observe him and nothing more. But Fitz had seen her get improbably flustered a few times when he had been filling out a postcard for Mack and had made the connection. 

“Or I could just forget it,” May finally replied. Fitz nodded, and she walked out of the lab room.

He had a feeling she wasn’t going to forget it for long. In some ways, he missed the impassive and silent and frankly rather scary May he had first met. At some point along the way, they lost their boundaries with each other and she now clearly felt she had authority or responsibility or something over this part of his life too.

But, as much as he would like to follow May’s suggestion, Jemma had never really given any real indication that she’d want that. She was obviously happy to see him, and Fitz wasn’t stupid – he knew she flirted with him sometimes. But flirting was a lot different from actually acting on it. She had become such a talented, accomplished woman, and a part of him still felt like that boy who never quite understood why she went for him in the first place.

**

Jemma walked quickly down the hall of the plane, her mind on a half dozen different – she stopped, and then walked backwards until she reached the door to the computer room. It was the largest section of the craft, and the most power-hungry, and she loved to watch Fitz work in it. She leaned against the doorframe, smiling at his expression of concentration as he looked at the notes on the table next to him and then bent over the keypunch again. He finally noticed her and looked up, taking the pen out of his mouth and holding it between his fingers.

“Need something?”

“No,” Jemma replied, shaking her head. She took a breath and stepped into the room. There was a little stool in the corner near him, and she sat on it. She reached out to pick up the stack of unused punch cards, needing something to do with her hands. “Skye would love this. She’s been taking computer classes at the university.”

“I know,” Fitz said, and Jemma lifted her head in surprise. “I wish she’d hurry up, because your dad won’t tell her about all this until she graduates and I can't pretend I know what I'm doing in this part of the job much longer.”

Jemma had no response, and when he looked up at her a few seconds later, he laughed at her expression. “He is my boss, ultimately. We talk sometimes.” 

“Do you ever feel like he’s ten steps ahead of you?” she finally asked. “And every choice you make in life is falling perfectly into his plan?”

“All the time,” he confirmed with a grin. He put the pen back in his mouth and focused on the machine in front of him again.

Jemma couldn’t help but smile. “You want a cigarette, don’t you?”

Fitz snorted. “All the time,” he repeated. 

“I suppose it’s not a good idea to smoke on a plane.”

“I don’t smoke anymore, actually,” Fitz said, rather wistfully. “Have you been certified for field missions?”

“No.”

“Try doing the obstacle course when you can’t breathe.”

“Probably for the best,” Jemma mused. “Even if it was – ”

Fitz glanced up when she cut herself off. “Was what?”

Jemma bit her lip and shook her head. She could feel the blush rising on her cheeks, and it only got worse when his eyes traveled over her face and he started to smile. She hopped off the stool, dropped the cards back on the table and practically ran out of the room, throwing a goodbye over her shoulder.

**

“You gotta fix this, Jemma.”

“I don’t know how, Fitz.”

And that statement never felt truer than when she watched their last hope for an antiserum fail. Out of the corner of her eye, on the other side of the doors, she saw May, Mike and Akela realize the same truth. Only Fitz wouldn’t accept it and he turned away to the lab bench again. She walked over to the doors and spoke quietly to May.

The next few minutes seemed to pass in something of a daze, and she couldn’t quite believe it when she swung the fire extinguisher at Fitz’ head. But she moved quickly, trying not to cry as she reached for the wheel to crank open the cargo doors. She wasn’t strong or fast enough, though, and when Fitz grabbed her and forced her to face him, she began to sob. 

“Fitz, please,” she begged, struggling against him. “You have to let me. I can’t – I won’t – ”

“Jemma, it works!” he shouted over her and the roar of the wind rushing in through the crack of the half-open doors.

“What?” she asked in breathless disbelief.

He stepped out of the way and turned her towards the lab. The third mouse was moving around in the cage, looking perfectly healthy. Jemma nearly collapsed, and Fitz caught her in his arms again. She turned around, hugging him tightly.

“Fitz, I – ”

She pulled back slightly and stared at him, trying to figure out what she wanted to say, wondering if she should just use her mouth to tell him in a different way. But she never got to decide. He pulled her closer again, and her eyes fluttered shut, and he – 

Injected her with the antiserum.

Jemma’s eyes opened wide as she felt it enter her, and then moments later, she felt some sort of pulse building up inside her, and then the world went dark.

**

It was the longest night of Fitz’ life, but he never left her side. Mike had helped him carry Jemma into her bunk and then he sat down in the chair next to her. Sometimes he tried to read, sometimes he dozed a bit, always jerking awake in alarm a few moments later. Once May brought him a bag of ice for his head and his rations that he ate half-heartedly. But mostly he just watched her, attentive to every little shift of movement and change in breathing. And finally, just before midnight, she woke, nearly sitting straight up in panic.

Fitz moved quickly, sliding onto the bed and grabbing her into a hug.

“You’re OK,” he murmured, rubbing her back. “Everything’s OK.”

“Fitz,” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, shivering slightly.

They held each other for several minutes, and when Jemma started to calm, he finally spoke. “Never do that to me again, Jemma. Promise me. I – I lost you once, and it nearly… Just promise not to leave me.”

“I promise,” she whispered. “You too.”

Fitz couldn’t stop his laugh. “I’m not the one trying to jump out of planes.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he didn’t let her. Grasping her jaw with one hand, he turned her towards him and kissed her with everything he had. 

It didn’t take long for her to respond, and then there was no holding back. The atmosphere in the room was still subdued, but that was quickly being replaced by an almost giddy, relieved sort of passion. Fitz blindly crawled backwards on the bed until he was nearly at the foot, and then he broke the kiss to pull her shirt over her head. He reached down and grabbed Jemma’s pants at the waistband. He tugged sharply and she half-yelped, half-laughed as she fell down onto the bed, her hair flying out around her. 

He unbuttoned and unzipped her pants quickly, and she kicked her legs a bit as he pulled them off entirely. Jemma reached for her underwear, lifting her hips and twisting around until they too were removed. And then she reached out for Fitz’ jeans.

He grabbed her hands and stopped her movement. And when she looked at him, confused, he gave her a hungry smile.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice deep. “I’ve regretted something for five years, and I’m going to do that first.”

“What?” she asked, breathless and intrigued.

Fitz cocked an eyebrow at her and then dropped down, his mouth immediately connecting with her. Jemma’s response was sudden and nearly violent, her whole body pulling taut as she inhaled sharply. Fitz fought a feeling of heady power as he circled his tongue around her clit and then sucked it between his lips.

Jemma squeaked, and her thighs clamped tight against his ears. Fitz struggled a bit, trying to breathe, and he finally had to bring his hands up and pull her legs apart and away from him.

“Jem, I can’t – _mmph_.”

Her hand pressed hard against the back of his head, forcing him back down onto her. Fitz didn’t protest, instead returning to his previous actions. He opened his mouth wide, trying to reach all of her at once, and he slid his hands up until they were fondling her breasts. 

Jemma’s body undulated, her hips rocking up and pressing harder against his mouth, and her head tilting back until her shoulders were lifting off the mattress. He could hear the noises she was making, harsh pants and little, guttural moans and soft, sighing repetitions of his name. It was too much, and Fitz couldn’t stop himself from pressing down against the mattress, rotating his own hips in tight, hard circles and trying to get some sort of relief. 

She pulled at his hair, one foot kicking against him, and then reached up to grab the pillow that had bunched up behind her, held it over her face and screamed. Fitz worked his mouth faster and faster, lapping at her through the climax and reaching one fist out to punch at the mattress, grunting as he came himself. 

She collapsed, all the tension flowing out of her body at once. Little aftershocks jolted through her, and he flattened his tongue and swiped it up a few more times before pulling away. He reached out and tugged the bed sheet up to wipe at his mouth. Then he kissed his way up her body, rolled off to one side, and mindlessly unbuttoned and kicked off his own pants and underwear. He didn’t know who was breathing harder, but she was the first one to eventually move sometime after that.

“Fitz,” she sighed, turning to her side and lifting one leg to drape over him. 

She reached down at the same time, grabbing hold of him and trying to line him up with where he wished he could go. She stopped almost immediately, her head tilting down in surprise as she looked at him.

“Yeah, sorry,” he murmured, trying not to feel humiliated. “Gonna have to wait on that.”

She didn’t respond, and his embarrassment grew deeper. “Hope you’re happy,” he attempted to joke. “I haven’t…done that in my pants in maybe ten years. Turning me back into a teenager.”

Jemma chuckled and pushed him fully onto his back. She rolled on top of him and propped herself up on her elbows. Tapping at his chest with her fingers, she grinned up at him. He blinked once, wrapped his hand around her neck and pulled. They met somewhere in the middle for a quick, ardent kiss, and then she returned to her previous position. 

“I suppose I waited five years,” she finally replied with a teasing smile. “I can wait a little longer.”

Fitz ran a hand through her hair, admiring the way it streamed out of his fingers and fell back down. “Waited, huh?” And at Jemma’s _well…_ and overly innocent look up to the side, he added. “Mm-hmm.”

“Oh, sorry,” she replied, clearly trying to sound sincere. “Please share the story of how you spent every night at home alone since I got on that plane.” 

“I did,” Fitz tried to claim.

“I find that hard to believe, with how well you did that just now.”

Fitz’ lips twitched and he shrugged. “Maybe not every night.”

“Mm-hmm,” she copied him.

“They didn’t mean a thing, baby,” Fitz said, affecting an overly suave tone. 

She snickered, dropping down to rest her forehead against his chest briefly. Then, she reached down and grabbed the hem of his shirt; Fitz half-sat until she pulled it all the way off. He fell back to the mattress, but she took another moment to unhook and slide off her bra. Fitz hummed at the feel of her skin against his as she resettled.

“There was this one guy,” she said, giggling a bit. 

“Jemma, that isn’t going to help our situation here.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “I called out your name.”

Fitz paused for a long time, thinking. “Maybe I do want to hear this story.”

She bent down to kiss his chest, a wide smile on her face preventing her from properly puckering. “He…wasn’t the greatest. So, I was trying to make it a little better by thinking of you – ”

“Understandable.”

She pinched his side but otherwise ignored him. “And it just came out.”

“What did he do?” Fitz asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Nothing.” Jemma shrugged. “I changed it to something like ‘fitz inside me so good.’”

Fitz’ loud and immediate laugh echoed throughout the bunk, and Jemma tried to shush him. 

“These bunks are soundproof; don’t worry,” he said, once he calmed. “So you don’t have to muffle any more screams.”

“They are?!” she asked, apparently not even noticing his innuendo.

Fitz nodded. “Mostly because May snores.”

“ _How_ do you know that?” Jemma asked, mostly joking but with an underlying hint of jealousy.

“Oh God, not because of that,” Fitz replied, and she relaxed. “I can’t imagine anything more terrifying.”

Jemma tilted her head in acknowledgment and then returned to their earlier topic. “But you couldn’t make these cubbies a little bigger?”

Fitz turned to look at her. “Really? You’re going to complain? Have you seen this plane? I designed this entire thing – ”

“Yes, you’re very talented.”

“ – and told May repeatedly how much we needed a biologist on the team in the _hope_ that someday your dad would tell you about – ”

“What?” Jemma whispered, surprised and touched.

“Um…what?” Fitz said, his eyes widening in panic.

“You – you designed this plane for me?”

Fitz struggled for a response, and Jemma pushed herself up to kiss him again. Several minutes passed before they broke apart, heaving for air.

“I never stopped hoping,” Fitz admitted. “I never stopped lov – ”

Jemma cut him off, passionately kissing him again. “Me neither, not really,” she murmured, rubbing against him and sliding her hand down his side and then to…

“Fitz,” she observed pointedly. 

He stared down, an eyebrow lifting in slight surprise. It was earlier than he was expecting, but he wasn’t going to complain.

“You _are_ like a teenager again,” she added, chuckling low in her throat as she stroked him more.

Fitz flipped her over and began to suck soft kisses into her neck. “Promise me something,” he muttered against her skin.

“Anything,” she breathed out.

“Don’t cry.”

**

A week or so later, they had landed to refuel and Jemma had run to the nearest store to stock up on a variety of items. That evening, Fitz was sitting on the floor of her bunk and snickering softly.

“What’s so funny?” Jemma asked, nudging his shoulders with her knees. She bent over him a little, inspecting her work as she pulled the comb through his hair one last time.

Fitz shook his head slightly. “You used to get so horny over my curls, and now all you want to do is grease them up.”

Jemma didn’t reply for a moment. “I don’t suppose you have your leather jacket on board,” she finally said.

Fitz laughed.

**

A few months later, Jemma glanced up at Fitz as he entered the lab and offered him a smile. Then, she returned immediately to her work. She wanted to organize some samples in the short time they had before the plane landed and the team separated for the holidays.

She and Fitz would, of course, take advantage of being from the same town and spend their Christmas together. 

“Almost finished?”

Jemma nodded, as Fitz walked up to the bench and took a seat next to her. 

“And your parents are meeting us at the airfield?”

Jemma nodded again, only half listening to him as she packed up the materials in front of her. 

“Good. I need to talk to your dad.”

Jemma froze. And then she slowly looked up at Fitz. “Why?” she asked breathlessly.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. stuff,” he said, as if it were obvious.

“Oh. Right.”

There was a brief silence. And then Fitz cleared his throat as he leaned to the side and reached into his pocket. “You didn’t think I meant this, did you?”

He dropped a small metal circle on the table and it clanked quietly as it immediately fell still. Jemma stared at it, feeling strangely scared. She finally reached out, her fingers trembling. She swallowed.

“Did you make this?” she whispered.

“Mm-hmm.”

“It’s not scrap metal,” she observed.

“Vibranium,” Fitz confirmed. “Got a sample from Howard.”

“Like Captain America’s shield?”

“Practically indestructible. I liked the symbolism.”

“Fitz,” Jemma murmured, finally facing him. She blinked away the tears in her eyes. And then she laughed. “Is this how you’re going to propose to me?”

Fitz held her eyes for a moment, and then slowly slid off the stool. He dropped to his knees in front of her and opened his mouth to speak. 

“All the growing up we had to do, there wasn’t a way to do it together. But we can at least grow old together. Jemma Simmons Coulson – ”

She didn’t let him get any more words out. Falling forward and trusting him to catch her, she knocked him back onto the floor of the lab and pressed kisses all over his face. She had never felt happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may notice the last few chapters lost a bit of the “period piece” feel, at least in terms of slang/dialogue. I struggled with that choice for a while, until I finally accepted it was necessary for the narrative style and for characterization purposes. I could expand on the whole writing process there much more, but I won’t bore you! I hope it wasn’t too jarring a switch in tone. 
> 
> The title of this story comes from the song He’s a Rebel (The Crystals). NOT Rebel Without a Cause, as some of you might have assumed. I didn’t use the full song title because I actually consider Jemma to be the "real" rebel in this story. (This is actually an important point for the whole theme/goal of the story, actually.)
> 
> In case anyone wants to know other songs from the “soundtrack” that I listened to while writing much of this, here are a few of them (and yes, I realize most of them are songs from the 1960s. Deal with it!):
> 
> Then He Kissed Me, Dream Lover, Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow, Mama Said, Save the Last Dance for Me, Earth Angel (in my head, this is the song they danced to the night of Homecoming), Going to the Chapel of Love, Why Do Fools Fall in Love, etc. etc. etc.
> 
> Many thanks to typhanni/notapepper for a great prompt, for letting me run kind of wild with it, and for encouraging me as I sent various spoilers and complaints! And thanks to all of you for reading, commenting and kudos-ing!


End file.
